UC-NRLF 


B    4    IDl    4SD 


BLUE 


BLAIZE 

AND  THE 

DOOR 

y 

E.F.  Benson 

V — 


m 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 
THE  BLUE  DOOR 

E.  F.  BENSON 


HE  WAS  GOING  TO  EGYPT  AND  WAS  HAVING  A  SPIDER  S 
WEB   PAINTED   ON  HIS  HEAD  TO  KEEP  THE  FLIES  OFF. 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 
THE  BLUE  DOOR 

By 
E.    F.    BENSON 


ILLUSTRATED    BY   H.    J.    FORD 


GARDEN    CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  DORAN  &  COMPANY,  INC. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

He  was  going  to  Egypt  and  was  having  a  spider 
web  painted  on  his  head  to  keep  the  flies 
OFF Frontispiece 

PAGB 

David  finds  the  Blue  Door 21 

David  shakes  the  bottle  at  the  cats    ....  27 

The  game-cupboard  comes  to  life 39 

David  calls  on  Miss  Muffet 49 

The  spider  chases  Miss  Muffet 55 

David  finds  the  Mint-man  in  the  bank      ...  61 

The  recovering  of  Uncle  Popacatapetl    ...  67 

The  telegram  rescues  Uncle  P.  from  the  Mint- 
man     83 

David  dances  with  the  giraffe 93 

David  and  the  Rhyme  family 105 

Miss  Bones  sitting  on  David's  thumb   ....  107 

David  and  the  cow  porter  on  the  pile  of  luggage  113 

David  uses  the  telephone  in  the  cow  porter's 

TAIL 119 

The  bald-headed  men  in  the  hairdresser's  get  up 
TO  catch  the  train 133 

How  Canon  and  Mrs.  Rook  quarreled  over  a 

STICK 137 

fviil 


}15i9? 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

David  does  the  lark-flight 149 

The  birds  carry  up  David  to  get  his  flying  certif- 
icate   151 

David  rescues  the  Brigadier-General      .     .     .  163 

Field-Marshal    David    inspects    his    guard    of 

HONOUR 167 

David  and  the  trout 187 

Noah  pursues  David 195 

David  in  the  Registry  office 205 

David  runs  for  home 211 

David  reaches  home 215 


[viii] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND  THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 
THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  I 

Ever  since  he  was  four  years  old,  and  had 
begun  to  think  seriously,  as  a  boy  should,  David 
Blaize  had  been  aware  that  there  was  a  real  world 
lying  somewhere  just  below  the  ordinary  old 
thing  in  which  his  father  and  mother  and  nurse 
and  the  rest  of  the  fast-asleep  grown-up  people 
lived.  Boys  began  to  get  drowsy,  he  knew,  about 
the  time  that  they  were  ten,  though  they  might 
still  have  occasional  waking  moments,  and  soon 
after  that  they  went  sound  asleep,  and  lost  all 
chance  of  ever  seeing  the  real  world.  If  you 
asked  grown-ups  some  tremendously  important 
questions,  such  as  "Why  do  the  leaves  fall  oiF 
the  trees  when  there  is  glass  on  the  lake?"  as 

[11] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

likely  as  not  they  would  begin  talking  in  their 
sleep  about  frost  and  sap,  just  as  if  that  had  got 
anything  to  do  with  the  real  reason.  Or  they 
might  point  out  that  it  wasn't  real  glass  on  the 
lake,  but  ice,  and,  if  they  were  more  than  usually 
sound  asleep,  take  a  piece  of  the  lake-glass  and 
let  you  hold  it  in  your  fingers  till  it  became  water. 
That  was  to  show  you  that  what  you  had  called 
glass  was  really  frozen  water,  another  word  for 
which  was  ice.  They  thought  that  it  was  very 
wonderful  of  them  to  explain  it  all  so  nicely,  and 
tell  you  at  great  length  that  real  glass  did  not 
become  water  if  you  held  it  in  your  fingers,  which 
you  must  remember  to  wash  before  dinner.  Per- 
haps they  would  take  you  to  the  nursery  window 
when  you  came  in  from  your  walk,  and  encourage 
you  to  put  your  finger  on  the  pane  in  order  to 
see  that  glass  did  not  become  water.  This  sort 
of  thing  would  make  David  impatient,  and  he 
asked,  "Then  why  don't  you  put  ice  in  the  win- 
dow, and  then  you  could  boil  it  for  tea  in  the 
kettle?"  And  if  his  nurse  wanted  to  go  to  sleep 
again,  she  would  say,  "Now  you're  talking  non- 
sense, Master  David." 

[12] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

Now  that  was  the  ridiculous  thing!  Of  course 
he  was  talking  nonsense  just  to  humour  Nannie. 
He  was  helping  her  with  her  nonsense  about  the 
difference  between  ice  and  glass.  He  had  been 
wanting  to  talk  sense  all  the  time,  and  learn 
something  about  the  real  world,  in  which  the  fish 
put  a  glass  roof  on  their  house  for  the  winter  as 
soon  as  they  had  collected  enough  red  fire-leaves 
to  keep  them  warm  until  the  hot  weather  came 
round  again.  That  might  not  be  the  precise  way 
in  which  it  happened,  but  it  was  something  of 
that  sort.  Instead  of  pinching  herself  awake, 
poor  sleepy  Nannie  went  babbling  on  about  ice 
and  glass  and  sap  and  spring,  in  a  way  that  was 
truly  tedious  and  quite  beside  the  real  point. 

Yet  when  the  sleepy  things  tried  to  awake  to 
the  real  world,  they  could  not  get  their  grown-up 
dreams  out  of  their  heads.  Sometimes  his  mother 
would  come  up  to  the  nursery  before  he  went  to 
bed,  and  take  him  on  her  knee,  which  was  a  soft, 
comfortable  place,  and  tell  him  a  story,  which 
often  began  quite  well  and  seriously.  David  al- 
ways asked  that  the  electric  light  should  be  put 
out  first,  because  then  the  flame-cats  would  come 
[13] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

out  of  their  holes,  and  play  puss-in-the-corner  all 
over  the  nursery.  They  always  helped  the  story 
to  seem  true  and  serious,  for  they  were  real,  only 
the  electric  light  must  be  put  out  first,  because 
it  gave  them  shocks,  and  naturally  you  could  not 
play  when  you  were  being  shocked.  He  knew 
that  to  be  true  even  in  the  sleepy  grown-up  world, 
because  once  when  his  mother  was  playing  with 
him,  he  had  put  out  his  tongue  at  Nannie  when 
she  came  to  say  it  was  bed-time,  and  his  mother 
couldn't  play  any  more,  because  she  was  shocked. 
That  was  why  the  flame-cats  must  have  the  elec- 
tric light  put  out. 

Well,  there  were  the  flame-cats  dancing 
(sometimes  they  had  a  ball  instead  of  puss-in-the- 
corner),  and  here  was  he  very  comfortable  and 
wide-awake,  and  sometimes,  as  I  have  said,  the 
story  began  quite  well,  with  an  air  of  truth  and 
reality  about  it.  There  was  a  little  green  man 
with  whiskers  who  lived  in  the  pear-tree,  and 
washed  his  hands  with  Pears'  soap.  Or  there 
was  a  red-faced  old  woman  who  lived  in  the  ap- 
ple-tree, and  kept  a  sharp  look-out  for  dumplings 
coming  round  the  corner,  for  these  were  hex 
[14] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

deadliest  enemies,  and  pulled  pieces  off  her,  and 
made  them  into  apple-dumplings.  Sometimes 
they  pulled  her  nose  off  when  they  caught  her, 
or  a  finger  or  two,  which  never  grew  again  till 
next  spring,  and  often,  if  spring  was  late,  from 
going  to  sleep  again  after  Nannie  Equinox  had 
called  him,  there  was  practically  nothing  left  of 
her.  So  when  the  regiment  of  dumplings  came 
round  the  corner.  Grandmamma  Apple-tree  hid 
in  the  grass,  and  pretended  she  was  Mr.  Winfall, 
the  tailor,  who  had  made  David's  new  sailor 
clothes.  Then  Colonel  Dumpling  would  stumble 
over  her,  and  sometimes  he  did  not  know  whether 
she  was  Grandmamma  Apple-tree  or  Mr.  Win- 
fall.  So  he  began  very  politely,  like  a  subscrip- 
tion paper  with  a  half-penny  stamp  in  case  it 
proved  to  be  Mr.  Winfall,  who  had  the  habit  of 
eating  Colonel  Dumpling  whenever  he  saw  him, 
and  often  some  privates  as  well,  cleared  his  throat 
and  said  in  his  best  suetty  voice: 

**Dear  Sir  or  Madam." 

He  never  got  further  than  that  because,  if  it 
proved  to  be  Mr.  Winfall,  Mr.  Winfall  ate  him 
whether  he  had  an  apple  inside  or  not,  and  if  it 
[15] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

was  Grandmamma  Apple-tree,  she  was  so  in- 
dignant, as  every  proper  female  should  be  at 
being  taken  for  a  man,  that  she  began  abusing 
Colonel  Dumpling  in  a  red  voice,  if  she  was  ripe, 
and  a  green  one  if  she  wasn't  and  gave  the  whole 
show  away.  So  she  lost  an  arm  or  a  leg  if  there 
were  many  people  in  the  house,  or  a  finger  or  two 
if  father  and  mother  were  alone,  and  Colonel 
Dimipling  said  to  his  regiment: 

"Attention!  Slow  fatigue  March!  Right- 
about Kitchen  Turn!" 

Now  all  this  sort  of  thing  was  clearly  true,  and 
belonged  to  the  real  world,  but  too  often,  unfor- 
tunately, David's  mother  got  grown-up  and 
sleepy  again,  and  began  talking  the  most  dread- 
ful nonsense.  A  little  girl  with  golden  hair  and 
blue  eyes  made  her  unwelcome  presence  known 
by  singing,  or  a  baby  would  be  found  underneath 
a  gooseberry  bush  (David  always  hoped  that  it 
got  frightfully  pricked),  or  a  sweet  lovely  fairy 
would  fly  in,  just  when  everything  was  getting 
on  so  nicely,  and  make  rubbish  out  of  it.  He  was 
too  polite  to  let  his  mother  know  how  boring  she 
had  become,  and  so  whenever  the  golden-haired 
[16] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

little  girl  or  the  sweet  fairy  appeared,  he  would 
try  to  go  on  with  Colonel  Dumpling's  part  of  the 
story  in  his  own  mind,  or  watch  the  flame-cats 
getting  tired  as  the  fire  burned  low. 

Nannie  was  not  so  good  at  stories,  but  she  had 
flashes  of  sense,  as  when,  one  night,  when  David 
preferred  to  sit  up  in  bed  instead  of  lying  down 
to  go  to  sleep,  she  hinted  that  a  black  man  might 
possibly  come  down  the  chimney,  unless  he  put 
his  head  properly  on  the  pillow.  David  knew 
that  it  was  not  likely,  for  it  would  have  to  be  a 
very  small  man  indeed,  and  fireproof,  but  there 
was  some  glimmering  of  a  real  idea  in  it.  So  he 
was  not  the  least  frightened,  and  asked,  with  in- 
terest, if  he  would  be  like  bacon  or  beef  before 
he  got  through  the  fire.  This  exploded  any  sense 
there  might  have  been  in  Nannie's  original  idea 
at  once,  because  she  threatened  to  go  downstairs 
and  tell  his  mother  if  he  wouldn't  lie  down.  A 
very  poor  ending  to  the  black  man  coming  down 
the  chimney!  Nannie  clearly  knew  nothing  about 
him  really  if  she  so  quickly  got  sleepy  and  talked 
about  fetching  his  mother.  Nobody  grown-up 
ever  woke  to  the  real  world  for  more  than  a 
[17] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

minute  or  two  at  a  time,  except  perhaps  his 
father,  who  spent  so  many  hours  in  a  big  room 
called  "The  Laboratory."  There  he  seemed  to 
dabble  in  realities,  for  he  could  put  a  fragment  of 
something  on  the  water,  and  it  began  to  blaze, 
or  he  could  mix  a  powder  out  of  certain  bottles, 
and  when  it  was  lit  it  burned  with  so  red  a  flame 
that  his  father  looked  as  if  he  was  illuminated 
inside  like  a  turnip-ghost.  Or  he  could,  by 
another  mixture,  produce  a  smell  that  he  said 
was  "Tincture  of  Rotten  Eggs,"  and  was  really 
made  of  the  ghosts  of  bad  eggs  ground  up  and 
exorcised.  But  then,  poor  man,  he  got  grown-up, 
and  when,  subsequently,  David  wanted  to  know 
what  the  ghosts  of  bad  eggs  looked  like  when 
they  were  exorcised,  he  muttered  in  his  sleep 
something  about  sulphuretted  hydrogen. 

David  was  now  just  "turned  six,"  as  Nannie 
expressed  it,  and  knew  that  he  had  only  about 
four  years  more  in  front  of  him  before  he  began 
to  lapse  into  that  drowsy  state  of  grown-uppish- 
ness  which  begins  when  boys  are  ten  or  there- 
abouts, and  lasts,  getting  worse  and  worse,  till 
[18] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

they  are  twenty  or  seventy  or  anything  else.  If 
he  was  going  to  find  the  real  world  of  which  he 
caught  glimpses  now  and  then,  he  must  do  so 
without  losing  much  time.  There  was  probably 
a  door  into  it,  and  for  a  long  time  he  had  hoped 
that  it  was  the  door  in  the  ground  by  the  lake. 
But  one  day  he  had  found  that  door  open,  and 
it  was  an  awful  disappointment  to  see  that  it  only 
contained  a  tap  and  a  round  opening,  to  which 
presently  the  gardener  fixed  a  long  curly  pipe. 
When  he  turned  the  tap,  the  pipe  gave  some 
jolly  chuckling  noises,  and  began  to  stream  with 
water  at  its  far  end.  That  was  very  delightful, 
and  consoled  David  a  little  for  the  disappoint- 
ment. 

Then  one  night  he  had  a  clue.  He  had  just 
lain  down  in  his  bed,  when  he  heard  a  door  be- 
ginning to  behave  as  doors  do  when  they  think 
they  are  quite  alone,  and  nobody  is  looking. 
Then,  as  you  know,  they  unlatch  themselves,  and 
begin  walking  to  and  fro  on  their  hinges,  hitting 
themselves  against  their  frames.  This  often  hap- 
pened to  the  nursery  door  when  he  came  down- 
stairs in  the  morning  after  he  was  quite  sure  he 
[19] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

had  shut  it.  His  mother  therefore  sent  him  up 
to  shut  it  again,  and  sure  enough  the  door  was 
always  open,  having  undone  itself  to  go  for  a 
walk  on  its  hinges.  But  on  this  night  he  thought 
that  the  sound  of  the  door  came  from  under  his 
pillow,  but  he  very  carelessly  fell  asleep  just  as 
he  was  listening  in  order  to  make  sure,  and  the 
next  thing  he  knew  was  that  Nannie  was  telling 
him  it  was  morning.  Again,  on  the  very  next 
night  he  had  only  just  put  his  head  on  the  pillow 
when  the  door  began  banging.  It  sounded  muf- 
fled, and  there  was  no  doubt  this  time  that  it  came 
from  under  his  pillow.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  broad 
awake,  and  pulled  his  pillow  away.  By  the  light 
of  the  flame-cats  who  were  dancing  to-night,  he 
could  see  the  smooth  white  surface  of  his  bolster, 
but,  alas,  there  was  no  door  there. 

David  was  now  quite  sure  that  somewhere  un- 
der his  pillow  was  the  door  he  was  looking  for. 
One  time  he  had  allowed  himself  to  go  to  sleep 
before  finding  it,  and  the  other  time  he  had  got 
too  much  awake.  So  on  the  third  night  he  took 
the  pin-partridge  to  bed  with  him,  in  the  hope 
that  it  would  keep  him  just  awake  enoughj  by 
[20] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

pricking  him  with  the  head  of  its  pin-leg.  The 
pin-partridge  had,  of  course,  come  out  of  Noah's 
Ark  and  in  the  course  of  some  terrible  adventures 
had  lost  a  leg.  So  Nannie  had  taken  a  pin,  and 
driven  it  into  the  stump,  so  that  it  could  stand 
again.    The  pin-leg  was  rather  longer  than  the 


DAVID    FINDS   THE    BLUS   DOOR 


wooden  one,  which  made  the  partridge  lean 
a  little  to  one  side,  as  if  it  was  listening  to  the 
agreeable  conversation  of  the  animal  next  it. 

Sure  enough,  on  this  third  night,  David  had 
only  just  lain  down,  with  the  pin-partridge  in 
one  hand,  and  the  pin  ready  to  scratch  his  leg  to 
[21] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

keep  him  just  awake  enough,  when  the  door  be- 
gan banging  again,  just  below  his  pillow.  He 
listened  a  little  while,  pressing  the  pin-head 
against  his  calf  so  that  it  hurt  a  little,  but  not 
enough  to  wake  him  up  hopelessly,  and  moved  his 
head  about  till  he  was  sure  that  his  ear  was  di- 
rectly above  the  door.  Then  very  quietly  he 
pushed  his  pillow  aside,  and  there  in  the  middle 
of  his  bolster  was  a  beautiful  shining  blue  door 
with  a  gold  handle,  swinging  gently  to  and  fro, 
as  if  it  was  alone.  He  got  up,  pushed  it  open  and 
entered.  For  fear  of  some  dreadful  misfortune 
happening,  like  finding  his  mother  on  the  other 
side  of  it,  who  might  send  him  back  to  shut  it,  he 
closed  it  very  carefully  and  softly.  He  found 
that  there  was  a  key  hanging  up  on  the  wall 
beside  it,  and  to  his  great  joy  it  fitted  the  keyhole. 
He  locked  it,  and  put  the  key  back  on  its  nail, 
so  that  when  he  came  back  he  could  let  himself 
out,  and  in  the  meantime  nobody  could  possibly 
reach  him. 


[22] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  II 

The  passage  into  which  the  blue  door  opened  was 
very  like  the  nursery  passage  at  home,  and  it 
was  certainly  night,  because  the  flame-cats  were 
dancing  on  the  walls,  which  only  happened  after 
dark.  Yet  there  was  no  fire  burning  anywhere, 
which  was  rather  puzzling,  but  soon  David  saw 
that  these  were  real  cats,  not  just  the  sort  of  un- 
real ones  which  demanded  a  fire  to  make  them 
dance  at  all.  Some  were  red,  some  were  yellow, 
some  were  emerald  green  with  purple  patches, 
and  instead  of  having  a  band  or  a  piano  to  dance 
to,  they  all  squealed  and  purred  and  growled, 
making  such  a  noise  that  David  could  not  hear 
himself  speak.  So  he  stamped  his  foot  and  said 
"Shoo!"  at  which  the  dance  suddenly  came  to  an 
end,  and  all  the  cats  sat  down,  put  one  hind-leg 
in  the  air,  and  began  licking  themselves. 
[23] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"If  you  please/'  said  David,  "will  you  tell  me 
where  to  go  next?" 

Every  cat  stopped  licking  itself,  and  looked  at 
him.     Some  cat  behind  him  said: 

*'Lor!  it's  the  boy  from  the  nursery." 

David  turned  round.  All  the  cats  had  begun 
licking  themselves  again,  except  a  large  tabby, 
only  instead  of  being  black  and  brown,  it  was 
the  colour  of  apricot  jam  and  poppies. 

"Was  it  you  who  spoke?"  said  David. 

"Set  to  partners!"  said  the  tabby,  and  they  all 
began  dancing  again. 

"Shoo,  you  silly  things,"  said  David,  stamping 
again.  "I  don't  want  to  stop  your  dancing,  ex- 
cept just  to  be  told  where  I'm  to  go,  and  what 
I'm  to  do  if  I'm  hungry.'* 

The  dancing  stopped  again. 

"There  is  a  pot  of  mouse-marmalade  some- 
where," said  the  tabby,  "only  you  mustn't  take 
more  than  a  very  little  bit.  It's  got  to  last  till 
February." 

"But  I  don't  like  the  mouse-marmalade,"  said 
David. 

[24] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

*'I  never  said  you  did,"  said  the  tabby. 
"Where's  the  cook?" 

"Gone  to  buy  some  new  whiskers,"  said  an- 
other. "She  put  them  too  close  to  the  fire,  which 
accounts  for  the  smell  of  burning." 

"Then  all  that  can  be  done  is  to  set  to  partners, 
and  hope  for  the  best,"  said  the  tabby. 

"If  any  one  dances  again,"  said  David,  "before 
you  tell  me  the  way,  and  where  I  shall  find  a  shop 
with  some  proper  food  in  it,  not  mousey,  I  shall 
turn  on  the  electric  light." 

"Fiddle-de-dee!"  said  the  tabby,  and  they  all 
began  singing 

"Hey  diddle-diddle 
The   cat   and   the   fiddle" 

at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

David  was  getting  vexed  with  them  all,  and 
he  looked  about  for  the  electric  light.  But  there 
were  no  switches  by  the  door,  as  there  ought  to 
have  been,  but  only  a  row  of  bottles  which  he 
knew  came  out  of  his  father's  laboratory.  But 
the  stopper  in  one  of  them  was  loose,  and  a  fizzing 
noise  came  out  of  it.  He  listened  to  it  a  minute, 
[25] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

with  his  ear  close  to  it,  and  heard  it  whispering, 
''It's  me!  it's  me!  it's  me!" 

"And  when  he's  got  it,  he  doesn't  know  what 
to  do  with  it!"  said  the  tabby  contemptuously. 

David  hadn't  the  slightest  idea.  He  was  only 
sure  that  the  bottle  had  something  to  do  with 
the  electric  light,  and  he  took  it  up  and  began 
shaking  it,  as  Nannie  did  to  his  medicine  bottle. 
To  his  great  delight,  he  saw  that,  as  he  shook  it, 
the  cats  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  the  passage 
lighter  and  lighter. 

The  tabby  spoke  to  him  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"You're  shocking  us  frightfully,"  she  said. 
"Please,  don't.  You  may  have  all  the  mouse- 
marmalade  as  soon  as  the  cook  comes  back  with 
her  whiskers.  She's  been  gone  a  long  time.  And 
if  you  don't  like  it,  you  really  know  where  every- 
thing else  is.  There's  the  garden  outside,  and 
then  the  lake,  and  then  the  village.  It's  all  just 
as  usual,  except  that  everything  is  real  here.  But 
whatever  you  do,  don't  shock  us  any  more." 

The  passage  had  grown  quite  bright  by  now 
and  there  were  only  a  few  of  the  very  strongest 
cats  left.  So,  as  he  was  a  kind  boy,  he  put  down 
[26] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

the  bottle  again,  which  began  fizzing  and  whisper- 
ing: 

"Pleased  to  have  met  you:  pleased  to  have  met 
you :  pleased  to  have  met  you." 


DAVID   SHAKES  THE  BOTTLE   AT  THE  CATS 


"I  don't  know  why  you  couldn't  have  told  me 
that  at  first,"  said  David  to  the  tabby. 

"Nor  do  I.  It  was  my  poor  head.  The  dan- 
cing gets  into  it,  and  makes  it  turn  round  and 
square,  one  after  the  other.    May  we  go  on?" 

The  cats  began  to  recover  as  he  stopped 
shaking  the  bottle,  and  he  walked  on  round  the 
[27] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

corner  where  the  game  cupboard  stood  against 
the  wall.  All  the  games  were  kept  there,  the 
Noah's  Ark,  and  the  spillikins,  and  the  Badmin- 
ton, and  the  Happy  Families,  and  the  oak-bricks, 
and  the  lead  soldiers;  and,  as  usual,  the  door  of 
it  was  slightly  open,  because,  when  all  the  games 
were  put  away,  even  Nannie  could  not  shut  it 
tight.  To-night  there  was  an  extraordinary  stir 
going  on  in  it,  as  if  everything  was  slipping  about 
inside,  and,  as  David  paused  to  see  what  was  hap^ 
pening,  a  couple  of  marbles  rolled  out.  But, 
instead  of  stopping  on  the  carpet,  they  continued 
rolling  faster  and  faster,  and  he  heard  them  hop- 
ping downstairs  in  the  direction  of  the  garden 
door. 

*'I  don't  want  to  play  games  just  yet,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "when  there  is  so  much  to  explore, 
but  I  must  see  what  they  are  doing." 

He  opened  the  door  a  little  wider,  and  heard 
an  encouraging  voice,  which  he  knew  must  be 
Noah's,  come  from  inside. 

"That's  right,"  it  said;  "now  we  can  see  what 
We're  doing.  Is  my  ulster  buttoned  properly 
[28] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

this  time,  missus?  Last  night,  when  you  buttoned 
it  for  me,  you  did  it  wrong,  you  did,  and  I  caught 
cold  in  my  ankle,  I  did.  It's  been  sneezing  all 
day,  it  has." 

"I  never  saw  such  trouble  as  you  men  are," 
said  Mrs.  Noah.  "Get  up,  you  silly,  and  don't 
sit  on  Shem's  hat.  I've  been  looking  for  it  every- 
where." 

David  stooped  down  and  looked  in.  He  had 
a  sort  of  idea  that  he  was  invisible,  and  wouldn't 
disturb  anybody.  There  was  the  ark,  with  all  its 
windows  open,  and  the  family  were  dressing.  It 
consisted  of  two  compartments,  in  the  second  of 
which  lived  the  animals,  one  on  the  top  of  each 
other  right  up  to  the  roof.  There  was  no  door 
in  it,  but  the  roof  lifted  oiF.  At  present  it  was 
tightly  closed  and  latched,  and  confused  noises 
of  lions  roaring  and  elephants  trumpeting  and 
cows  mooing,  dogs  barking,  and  birds  singing 
came  from  inside.  Sometimes  there  was  ordinary 
talk  too,  for  the  animals  had  all  learned  English 
from  David  as  well  as  knowing  their  own  animal 
tongue,  and  the  Indian  elephant  spoke  Hindu- 
stanee  in  addition.  He  was  slim  and  light  blue, 
[29] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

and  was  known  as  the  "Elegant  Elephant,"  in 
contrast  to  a  stout  black  one  who  never  spoke 
at  all.  All  this  David  thought  that  he  and  Nan- 
nie had  made  up,  but  now  he  knew  that  it  was 
perfectly  true.  And  he  stood  waiting  to  see  what 
would  happen  next. 

The  hubbub  increased. 

"If  that  great  lamb  would  get  oif  my  chest," 
said  the  elegant  elephant,  "I  should  be  able  to 
get  up.  Why  don't  they  come  and  open  the  roof?" 

"Not  time  yet,"  said  the  cow.  "The  family  are 
still  dressing.  But  it's  a  tight  fit  to-night.  I'm 
glad  the  pin-partridge  isn't  here  scratching  us 
all." 

"Where's  it  gone?"  said  the  elephant. 

"David  took  it  to  bed;  more  fool  he,"  said  the 
cow. 

"He  couldn't  be  much  more  of  a  fool  than  he 
is,"  grunted  the  pig.  "He  knows  nothing  about 
us  really." 

At  this  moment  David  heard  an  irregular  kind 
of  hopping  noise  coming  down  the  passage,  and, 
just  as  he  turned  to  look,  the  pin-partridge  ran 
[30] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

between  his  legs.    It  flew  on  to  the  roof  of  the 
ark,  and  began  pecking  at  it. 

"Let  me  in,"  it  shouted.  "I  beheve  it's  the  first 
of  September.  What  cads  you  fellows  are  not 
to  let  me  in!" 

"You  always  think  it's  the  first  of  September," 
said  the  cow.  "Now  look  at  me;  I'm  milked  every 
day,  which  must  hurt  me  much  more  than  being 
shot  once." 

"Not  if  it's  properly  done,"  said  the  partridge. 
"I  know  lots  of  cows  who  like  it." 

"But  it's  improperly  done,"  said  the  cow. 
"David  knows  less  about  milking  than  anybody 
since  the  flood.  You  wait  till  I  catch  him  alone, 
and  see  if  I  can't  teach  him  something  about 
tossing." 

This  sounded  a  very  awful  threat,  and  David, 
who  knew  that  it  was  best  to  take  cows  as  well  as 
bulls  by  the  horns,  determined  on  a  bold  policy. 

"If  I  hear  one  word  more  about  tossing,  I 
shan't  let  any  of  you  out,"  he  said. 

There  was  dead  silence. 

"Who's  that?"  said  the  cow  in  a  trembling 
voice,  for  she  was  a  coward  as  well  as  a  cow. 
[31] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

*'It'sme!"  said  David. 

There  was  a  confused  whispering  within. 

*'We  can't  stop  here  all  night." 

"Say  you  won't  toss  him." 

"You  can't  anyhow,  because  your  horns  are 
both  broken." 

"Less  noise  in  there,"  said  Noah  suddenly, 
from  the  next  compartment. 

The  cow  began  whimpering. 

"I'm  a  poor  old  woman,"  she  said,  "and  every- 
body's very  hard  on  me,  considering  the  milk  and 
butter  I've  given  you." 

"Chalk  and  water  and  margarine,"  said  the 
pin-partridge,  who  had  been  listening  with  his 
ear  to  the  roof.  "Do  say  you  won't  toss  him.  ] 
can't  see  him,  but  he's  somewhere  close  to  me." 

"Very  well,  I  won't  toss  him.  Open  the  roof, 
boy." 

David  was  not  sure  that  Noah  would  like  this, 
as  he  was  the  ark-master,  but  he  felt  that  his 
having  said  that  he  would  keep  the  roof  shut 
unless  the  cow  promised,  meant  that  he  would 
open  it  if  she  did,  and  so  he  lifted  the  roof  about 
an  inch. 

mi 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

At  that  moment  Noah's  head  appeared.  He 
was  standing  on  Shem's  head,  who  was  standing 
on  Ham's  head,  who  was  standing  on  Japheth's 
head,  who  was  standing  on  his  mother's  head. 
They  always  came  out  of  their  room  in  this  way, 
partly  in  order  to  get  plenty  of  practice  in  case 
of  fire,  and  partly  because  they  couldn't  be  cer- 
tain that  the  flood  had  gone  down,  and  were 
afraid  that  if  they  opened  the  door,  which  is  the 
usual  way  of  leaving  a  room,  the  water  might 
come  in.  When  Noah  had  climbed  on  to  the 
top  of  the  wall,  he  pulled  Shem  after  him,  who 
pulled  Ham,  who  pulled  Japheth,  who  pulled 
Mrs.  Noah,  and  there  they  all  stood  like  a  row 
of  sparrows  on  a  telegraph  wire,  balancing  them- 
selves with  great  difficulty. 

"Who's  been  meddhng  with  my  roof?"  asked 
Noah,  in  an  angry  voice.  "I  believe  it's  that  pin- 
partridge." 

The  pin-partridge  trembled  so  violently  at  this 
that  he  fell  off  the  roof  altogether,  quite  forget- 
ting that  he  could  fly.  But  the  moment  he 
touched  the  ground,  he  became  a  full-sized  par- 
tridge. 

[88] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

*'No,  I  didn't,"  he  said.  "There's  that  boy 
somewhere  about,  but  I  can't  see  him.  He  got 
through  the  blue  door  to-night." 

David  now  knew  that  he  was  invisible,  but 
though  it  had  always  seemed  to  him  that  it  must 
be  the  most  delicious  thing  in  the  world  to  be 
able  to  be  visible  or  invisible  whenever  you  chose, 
he  found  that  it  was  not  quite  so  jolly  to  have 
become  invisible  without  choosing,  and  not  ta 
have  the  slightest  idea  how  to  become  visible 
again.  It  gave  him  an  empty  kind  of  feeling  like 
when  he  was  hungry  long  before  the  proper  time. 

"The  cats  saw  me,"  he  said,  joining  in,  for  he 
knew  if  he  couldn't  be  seen,  he  could  be  heard. 

"Of  course  they  did,"  said  Noah,  "because  they 
can  see  in  the  dark  when  everything  is  invisible. 
That's  why  they  saw  you.  You  needn't  think 
that  you're  the  only  thing  that  is  invisible.  I 
suppose  you  think  it's  grand  to  be  invisible." 

"When  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  Ham,  "I  was 
told  that  little  boys  should  be  seen  and  not  heard. 
This  one  is  heard  and  not  seen.  I  call  that  a  very 
poor  imitation  of  a  boy.  I  dare  say  he  isn't  a 
real  one." 

[84] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"I've  been  quite  ordinary  up  to  now,"  said 
David.  "It  seems  to  have  come  on  all  of  a  sudden. 
And  I  don't  think  it's  at  all  grand  to  be  invisible. 
I  would  be  visible  this  minute  if  I  knew  how." 

"I  want  to  get  down,"  said  Mrs.  Noah,  sway- 
ing backwards  and  forwards  because  her  stand 
was  broken. 

"You'll  get  down  whether  you  want  to  or  not, 
ma,"  said  Shem  irritably,  "if  you  go  swaying 
about  like  that.  Don't  catch  hold  of  me  now. 
I've  got  quite  enough  to  do  with  keeping  my 
balance  myself." 

"Why  don't  you  get  down?"  asked  David,  who 
wanted  to  see  what  would  happen  next. 

"I  haven't  seen  the  crow  fly  yet,"  said  Noah. 
"We  can't  get  down  till  the  crow  has  flown." 

"What  did  the  crow  do?"  asked  David. 

"It  didn't.  That's  why  we're  still  here,"  said 
Japheth. 

"Some  people,"  said  Noah,  "want  everything 
explained  to   them.     When  the  cock   crows   it 
shows  it's  morning,  and  when  the  crow  flies  it 
shows  it's  night.    We  can't  get  down  until," 
[35] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"But  what  would  happen  if  you  did  get  down?" 
said  David. 

"Nobody  knows,"  said  Noah.  "I  knew  once, 
and  tied  a  knot  in  my  handkerchief  about  it,  so 
that  I  could  remember,  but  the  handkerchief 
went  to  the  wash,  and  they  took  out  the  knot. 
So  I  forgot." 

"If  you  tied  another  knot  in  another  handker- 
chief, wouldn't  you  remember  again?"  asked 
David. 

"No.  That  would  not  be  the  same  knot.  I 
should  remember  something  quite  different, 
which  I  might  not  like  at  all.  That  would  never 
do." 

"One,  two,  three,"  said  JMrs.  Noah,  beating 
time,  and  they  all  began  to  sing: 

"Never  do,  never  do. 
Never,  never,  never  do." 

Most  of  the  animals  in  the  ark  joined  in,  and 
they  sang  it  to  a  quantity  of  different  tunes. 
David  found  himself  singing  too,  but  the  only 
tune  he  could  remember  was  "Rule  Britannia," 
which  didn't  fit  the  words  very  well.  By  degrees 
[36] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

the  others  stopped  singing,  and  David  was  left 
quite  alone  to  finish  his  verse,  feeling  rather  shy 
but  knowing  that  he  had  to  finish  it  whatever 
happened.  When  he  had  done,  Noah  heaved  a 
deep  sigh. 

"That  is  the  loveliest  thing  I  ever  heard  in  my 
life,"  he  said.  "Are  you  open  to  an  engagement 
to  sing  in  the  ark  every  evening?  Matinees  of 
course,  as  well,  for  which  you  would  have  to  pay 
extra." 

This  was  a  very  gi-atifying  proposal,  but  David 
did  not  quite  understand  about  the  paying. 

"I  should  have  to  pay?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  of  course.  You'd  have  to  pay  a  great 
deal  for  a  voice  like  that.  You  mustn't  dream  of 
singing  like  that  for  nothing.  It  would  fill  the 
ark." 

"I  should  say  it  would  empty  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Noah  snappishly. 

"I  don't  know  if  I'm  rich  enough,"  said  David, 
not  taking  any  notice  of  this  rude  woman. 

"Go  away  at  once  then,"  said  Mrs.  Noah.  "I 
never  give  to  beggars." 

[37] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

Just  then  there  was  a  tremendous  rattle  from 
the  ark,  as  if  somebody  was  shaking  it. 

*'It's  the  crow,"  shouted  Ham.  "The  crow's 
just  going  to  fly.    Get  out  of  the  way,  boy." 

The  crow  forced  its  way  through  the  other 
animals,  balanced  itself  for  a  moment  on  the  edge 
of  the  ark,  and  flew  off  down  the  passage, 
squawking.  The  moment  it  left  the  ark  it  became 
ordinary  crow-size  again,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment David  suddenly  saw  his  one  hand  still  hold- 
ing up  the  lid  of  the  ark,  and  knew  that  he  had 
become  visible.  That  was  a  great  relief,  but  he 
had  no  time  to  think  about  it  now,  for  so  many 
interesting  things  began  happening  all  at  once. 
The  Noah  family  jumped  from  the  edge  of  the 
ark,  and  the  moment  their  stands  touched  the 
ground,  they  shot  up  into  full-sized  human  be- 
ings, with  hats  and  ulsters  on,  and  large  flat 
faces  with  two  dots  for  eyes,  one  dot  for  a  nose, 
and  a  line  for  a  mouth.  They  glided  swiftly  about 
on  their  stands,  like  people  skating,  and  seemed 
to  be  rather  bad  at  guiding  themselves,  for  they 
kept  running  into  each  other  with  loud  wooden 
crashes,  and  into  the  animals  that  were  pouring 
[38] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


THE  GAME-CUPBOARD   COMES  TO   LIFE 


out  of  the  ark  in  such  numbers  that  it  really  was 
difficult  to  avoid  everybody.  Occasionally  they 
were  knocked  down,  and  then  lay  on  their  backs 
with  their  eyes  winking  very  quickly,  and  their 
[89] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

mouths  opening  and  shutting,  like  fish  out  of 
water,  till  somebody  picked  them  up. 

David  got  behind  the  cupboard  door  to  be  out 
of  the  way  of  the  animals  and  all  the  other  things 
that  came  trooping  from  the  shelves.  Luckily 
the  nursery  passage  seemed  to  have  grown  much 
bigger,  or  it  could  never  have  held  everybody, 
for  the  animals  also  shot  up  to  their  full  size  as 
soon  as  they  left  the  ark.  But  they  kept  their 
colours  and  their  varnish,  and  though  David  had 
teen  several  times  to  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
there  was  nothing  there  half  so  remarkable  as  the 
pale  blue  elephant  or  the  spotted  pigs,  to  take 
only  a  few  examples.  Every  animal  here  wat,  so 
much  brighter  in  colour,  and  of  course  their  con- 
versation made  them  more  interesting.  On  they 
trooped  with  the  Noahs  whirling  in  and  out, 
towards  the  steps  to  the  garden  door,  and  when 
they  were  finished  with,  the  "Happy  Families," 
all  life-size,  too,  followed  them.  There  were  Mrs. 
Dose,  the  doctor's  wife,  with  her  bottle,  and  Miss 
Bones,  the  butcher's  daughter,  gnawing  her  bone 
in  a  very  greedy  manner,  and  Master  Chip,  th6 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

carpenter's  son,  with  his  head  supported  in  the 
pincers.  He  had  no  body,  you  will  remember, 
and  walked  in  a  twisty  manner,  very  upright  and 
soldier-like,  on  the  handles  of  them.  The  lead 
soldiers  followed  them  with  the  band  playing, 
and  the  cannons  shooting  peas  in  all  directions, 
only  the  peas  were  as  big  as  cannon-balls,  and 
shot  down  whole  regiments  of  their  own  men,  and 
many  of  the  hindmost  of  the  happy  families.  But 
nobody  seemed  to  mind,  but  picked  themselves 
up  again  at  once.  Often  the  whole  band  were 
lying  on  their  backs  together,  but  they  never 
ceased  playing  for  a  moment.  The  battledores 
and  shuttlecocks  came  next,  the  shuttlecocks  hit- 
ting the  battledores  in  front  of  them,  which  flew 
dovni  the  passage  high  over  the  heads  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  waited  there,  standing  on  their  handles 
till  the  shuttlecocks  came  up  and  hit  them  again. 
After  this  came  David's  clockwork  train,  which 
charged  into  everything  that  was  in  its  way,  and 
cut  a  lane  for  itself  through  soldiers,  happy  fam- 
ilies, and  animals  alike.  It  had  a  cow-catcher  in 
front  of  the  engine,  which  occasionally  pick'^d 
people  up,  instead  of  running  over  them,  luvi 
[41] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

when  David  saw  it  last,  before  it  plunged  down 
the  stairs,  it  had  Mr.  Soot,  the  chimney-sweep, 
and  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  the  llama  all 
lying  on  it,  jumbled  up  together,  and  kicking 
furiously. 

While  he  was  watching  this  extraordinary 
scene,  the  cupboard  doors  banged  to  again,  and 
he  saw  that  there  was  a  large  label  on  one  of 
them : — 

NO    ADMITTANCE    EXCEPT    BY    PRESENTING 
YOUE     CALLING-CARD     AND     VERY     LITTLE     THEN. 

And  on  the  other  was  this: 

NO    BOTTLES    OR   FOLLOAVERS    OR    ANYTHING   ELSE. 
RING  ALSO. 

David  studied  this  for  a  minute  or  two.  He 
did  not  want  to  go  in,  but  he  wanted  to  know  how. 
He  hadn't  got  a  calling-card — at  least  he  never 
had  before  he  came  through  the  blue  door,  but 
so  many  odd  things  had  happened  since,  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  surprised  when  he  put  his 
[42] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

hand  in  his  pocket  to  find  it  quite  full  of  calling- 
cards,  on  which  was  printed  his  name,  only  it  was 
upside  down.  So  he  naturally  turned  the  card 
upside  down  to  get  the  name  un-up side-down, 
but  however  he  turned  it,  his  name  was  still  up- 
side down.  If  he  looked  at  it  very  closely  as  he 
turned  it,  he  could  see  the  letters  spin  round  like 
wheels,  and  it  always  remained  like  this: 

a^ivT:a  aiAva 

The  other  trouser-pocket  was  also  quite  full 
of  something,  and  he  drew  out  of  it  hundreds  of 
other  calling-cards.  On  one  was  printed  "The 
Elegant  Elephant,  R.S.V.P.,"  on  another 
"Master  Ham,  P.P.C.,"  on  another  "The  Duke 
of  Wellington,  W.P."  on  another  "The  Engine 
Driver,  R.A.M.C,"  on  another  "Miss  Battle- 
dore, W.A.A.C."  Everybody  had  been  calling 
on  him. 

"Whatever  am  I  to  do?"  thought  David. 
"Shall  I  have  to  return  all  these  calls?  It  will 
take  me  all  my  time,  and  I  shall  see  nothing. 
Besides"-^and  he  looked  round  and  saw  that  the 
passage  was  completely  empty,  and  had  shrunk 
[43] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

to  its  usual  size  again — "Besides,  I  don't  know 
where  they've  all  gone." 

He  looked  at  the  cupboard  doors  again,  and 
found  that  they  had  changed  while  he  had  been 
looking  at  the  cards.  They  were  now  exactly 
like  the  big  front  door  at  home,  which  opened 
in  the  middle,  and  had  a  hinge  at  each  side.  In 
front  of  it  was  a  doormat,  in  the  bristles  of  which 
was  written: 

GO  AWAY. 

Now  David  was  the  sort  of  boy  who  often 
wanted  to  do  something,  chiefly  because  he  was 
told  not  to,  in  order  to  see  what  happened,  and 
this  doormat  made  him  quite  determined  to  go 
in.  It  was  no  use  trying  the  left-hand  side  of  the 
door,  partly  because  neither  bottles  nor  followers 
nor  anything  was  admitted,  and  partly  because 
you  had  to  ring  also,  and  there  wasn't  any  bell. 
But  there  seemed  just  a  chance  of  getting  in  by 
the  right-hand  part  of  the  door,  and  he  went  up 
to  it  and  knocked.  To  his  great  surprise  he  heard 
a  bell  ring  inside  as  soon  as  he  had  knocked,  which 
seemed  to  explain  "ring  also."  The  bell  did  not 
sound  like  an  electric  bell,  but  was  like  the  ser- 
[44] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

vants'  dinner  bell.  As  soon  as  it  had  stopped, 
he  heard  a  voice  inside  the  door  say  very  angrily: 

*'Give  me  my  tuffet  at  once." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  David  heard  the  noise 
of  some  furniture  being  moved,  and  the  door 
flew  open. 

"What's  your  name?"  said  the  butler.  "And 
have  you  got  a  calling-card?" 

David  gave  him  one  of  his  cards,  and  he  looked 
at  it  and  turned  it  upside  down. 

"It's  one  of  them  dratted  upside-downers,"  he 
said,  "and  it  sends  the  blood  to  the  head  some- 
thing awful." 

He  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and  bent  down  and 
stood  on  his  head. 

"Now  I  can  read  it,"  he  said.  "Are  you  David 
or  Blaize?  If  David,  where's  Blaize,  and  if 
Blaize,  where's  David?" 

"I'm  both,"   said  David. 

"You  can't  be  both  of  them,"  said  the  butler. 
"And  I  expect  you're  neither  of  them.  And  why 
didn't  you  go  away?" 

"You've  given  me  too  much  curds,"  said  a 
voice  behind  the  door.  "I've  told  you  before  to 
[45] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

find  some  way  to  weigh  the  whey.  It's  a  curd 
before.    Take  it  away!" 

"That  must  be  Miss  Muffet,"  thought  David. 
"There's  a  girl  creeping  into  it  after  all.  I  won- 
der if  she  makes  puns  all  the  time.  I  wish  I 
hadn't  knocked." 

"No,  I'm  rationed  about  puns,"  said  Miss 
MufFet,  as  if  he  had  spoken  aloud,  "and  I've  had 
my  week's  allowance  now.  But  a  margin's  allowed 
for  margarine.  Butter — margarine,"  she  said  in 
explanation. 

"I  saw  that,"  said  David. 

"No,  you  didn't:  you  heard  it.  Now,  come  in 
and  shut  the  door,  because  the  tuffet's  blowing 
about.  And  the  moment  you've  shut  the  door, 
shut  your  eyes  too,  because  I'm  not  quite  ready. 
I'll  sing  to  you  my  last  ballad  while  you're  wait- 
ing.   I  shall  make  it  up  as  I  go  along." 

Accordingly  David  shut  the  door,  and  then  his 
eyes,  and  Miss  Muffet  began  to  sing  in  a  thin 
cracked  voice : 

"As  it  fell  out  upon  a  day 
When  margarine  was   cheap. 
It  filled  up  all  the  grocers'  shops 

[*6] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

In  buckets  wide  and  deep. 

Ah,  well-a-day  !  ah,  ill-a-day ! 
Matilda  bought  a  heap. 

And  it  fell  out  upon  a  day 
When  margarine  was   dear, 
Matilda  bought  a  little  more 
And  made  it  into  beer. 

Ah,  well-a-day!  ah,  ill-a-day! 
It  tasted  rather  queer. 

As  it  fell  out  upon  a  day 
There  wasn't  any  more; 
Matilda  took  her  bottled  beer 
And  poured  it  on  the  floor. 

Ah,  well-a-day!  ah,  ill-a-day! 
And  that  was  aU  I  saw." 

"Poor  thing!"  said  Miss  Muffet.  "Such  a  brief 
and  mysterious  career.  Now  you  may  open  your 
eyes." 

David  did  so,  and  found  himself  in  a  large 
room,  with  all  the  furniture  covered  up  as  if  the 
family  was  away.  The  butler  was  still  standing 
on  his  head,  squinting  horribly  at  David's  card, 
and  muttering  to  himself,  "He  can't  be  both,  and 
he  may  be  neither.  He  may  be  either,  but  he 
can't  be  both."    In  the  middle  of  the  room  was 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

a  big  round  seat,  covered  with  ribands  which 
were  still  blowing  about  in  the  wind,  and  on  it 
was  seated  a  little  old  lady  with  horn  spectacles, 
eating  curds  and  whey  out  of  a  bowl  that  she  held 
on  her  knees. 

"Come  and  sit  on  the  tuff  et  at  once,"  she  said, 
"and  then  we'll  pretend  that  there  isn't  room  for 
the  spider.  Won't  that  be  a  good  joke?  I  like 
a  bit  of  chaff  with  my  spider.  I  expect  the  tuffet 
will  bear,  won't  it?  But  I  can't  promise  you  any 
curds." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  David  politely, 
"but  I  don't  like  curds." 

"No  more  do  I,"  said  Miss  Muffet.  "I  knew 
we  should  agree." 

"Then  why  do  you  eat  them?"  asked  David. 

"For  fear  the  spider  should  get  them.  Don't 
you  adore  my  tuffet?  It's  the  only  indoor  tuffet 
in  the  world.  All  others  are  out-door  tuffets. 
But  they  gave  me  this  one  because  most  spiders 
are  out-of-doors  spiders.  By  the  way,  we  haven't 
been  introduced  yet.    Where's  that  silly  butler?" 

"Here,"  said  the  butler.    He  was  lying  down 
on  the  floor  now,  and  staring  at  the  ceiling. 
[48] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


••.•••:.!'"Vry;;»«f^ 


DAVID  CALLS  ON  MISS   MUFFET 


[49] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Introduce  us,"  said  Miss  Muff  et.  "Say  Miss 
Muffet,  David  Blaize— David  Blaize,  Miss  Muf- 
fet.  Then  whichever  way  about  it  happens, 
you're  as  comfortable  as  it  is  possible  to  be  under 
the  circumstances,  or  even  above  them,  where  it 
would  naturally  be  colder." 

"I  don't  quite  see,"  said  David. 

"Poor  Mr.  Blaize.  Put  a  little  curds  and  whey 
in  your  eyes.  That's  the  way.  Dear  me,  there's 
another  pun." 

"You  made  it  before,"  said  David. 

"I  know.  It  counts  double  this  time.  But  as 
I  was  saying,  a  little  curds  and  whey — oh!  it's 
tipped  up  again.  What  restless  things  curds 
are!" 

She  had  not  been  looking  at  her  bowl,  and  for 
several  minutes  now  a  perfect  stream  of  curds 
and  whey  had  been  pouring  from  it  over  her 
knees  and  along  the  floor,  to  where  the  butler  lay. 
He  was  still  repeating,  "Miss  Muffet,  David 
Blaize — David  Blaize,  Miss  Muffet."  Some- 
times, by  way  of  variety,  he  said,  "Miss  Blaize 
— ^David  Muffet,"  but  as  nobody  attended,  it 
made  no  difference  what  he  said. 
[50] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"It  always  happens  when  I  get  talking,"  she 
said.  "And  now  we  know  each  other,  I  may  be 
permitted  to  express  a  hope  that  you  didn't  ex- 
pect to  find  me  a  little  girl?" 

"No,  I  like  you  best  as  you  are,"  said  David 
quickly. 

"It  isn't  for  want  of  being  asked  that  I've 
remained  Miss  Muffet,"  said  she.  "And  it  isn't 
from  want  of  being  answered.  But  give  me  a 
little  pleasant  conversation  now  and  then,  and 
one  good  frightening  away  every  night,  and  I'm 
sure  I'll  have  no  quarrel  with  anybody;  and  I 
hope  nobody  hasn't  got  none  with  me.  How 
interesting  it  must  be  for  you  to  meet  me,  when 
you've  read  about  me  so  often.  It's  not  nearly 
so  interesting  for  me,  of  course,  because  you're 
not  a  public  character." 

"Does  the  spider  come  every  night,  or  every 
day,  whatever  it  is  down  here?"  asked  David. 

"Yes,    sooner   or   later,"    said    Miss    MufFet 

cheerfully,  "but  the  sooner  he  comes,  the  sooner 

I  get  back  again,  and  the  later  he  comes  the 

longer  I  hav^  before  he  comes.    So  there  we  are." 

[51] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

She  stopped  suddenly,  and  looked  at  the 
ceiling. 

"Do  my  eyes  deceive  me?"  she  whispered,  "or 

is  that  the  s ?    No;  my  eyes  deceive  me,  and 

I  thought  they  would  scorn  the  action,  the 
naughty  things.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  peep 
at  my  furniture  underneath  the  sheets.  It  will 
pass  the  time  for  you,  but  be  ready  to  run  back 
to  the  tufFet,  when  you  hear  the  spider  coming. 
Really,  it's  very  tiresome  of  him  to  be  so  late." 

David  thought  he  had  never  seen  such  an  odd 
lot  of  furniture.  Covered  up  in  one  sheet  was  a 
stuffed  horse,  in  another  a  beehive,  in  another  a 
mowing-machine.  They  were  all  priced  in  plain 
figures,  and  the  prices  seemed  to  him  equally  ex- 
traordinary, for  while  the  horse  was  labelled 
"Two  shillings  a  dozen,"  and  the  mowing- 
machine  "Half  a  crown  a  pair,"  the  beehive  cost 
ninety-four  pounds  empty,  and  eleven  and  six- 
pence full.  David  supposed  the  reason  for  this 
was  that  if  the  beehive  v/as  full,  there  would  be 
bees  buzzing  about  everywhere,  which  would  be  a 
disadvantage. 

"When  I  give  a  party,"  said  Miss  Muffet,  "as 
[52] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

I  shall  do  pretty  soon  if  the  spider  doesn't  come, 
and  take  all  the  coverings  off  my  furniture,  the 
effect  is  quite  stupendous.  Dazzhng  in  fact,  my 
dear.  You  must  remember  to  put  on  your 
smoked  spectacles." 

David  was  peering  into  the  sheet  that  covered 
the  biggest  piece  of  furniture  of  all.  He  could 
only  make  out  that  it  was  like  an  enormous  box 
on  wheels,  and  cost  ninepence.  Then  the  door  in 
it  swung  open,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  a  bathing- 
machine.  On  the  floor  of  it  was  sitting  an  enor- 
mous spider. 

"Does  she  expect  me?"  said  the  spider  hoarsely. 
"I'm  not  feeling  very  well." 

David  remembered  that  he  had  to  run  back  to 
the  tufFet,  but  it  seemed  impolite  not  to  ask  the 
spider  what  was  the  matter  with  it.  It  had  a 
smooth  kind  face,  and  was  rather  bald. 

"My  web  caught  cold,"  said  the  spider.  "But 
I'll  come  if  she  expects  me." 

David  ran  back  to  the  tuff  et. 

"He's  not  very  well,"  he  said,  "but  he'll  come 
if  you  expect  him." 

"The  kind  good  thing!"  said  Miss  Muffet. 
[53] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Now  I  must  begin  to  get  frightened.  Will  you 
help  me?  Say  'Bo!'  and  make  faces  with  me 
in  the  looking-glass,  and  tell  me  a  ghost  story. 
Bring  me  the  looking-glass,  silly,"  she  shouted 
to  the  butler. 

He  took  one  down  from  over  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  held  it  in  front  of  them,  while  David 
and  Miss  Muffet  made  the  most  awful  faces 
into  it. 

"That's  a  beauty,"  said  Miss  Muffet,  as  David 
squinted,  screwed  up  his  nose,  and  put  his  tongue 
out.  "Thank  you  for  that  one,  my  dear.  It  gave 
me  quite  a  start.  You  are  really  remarkably 
ugly.  Will  you  feel  my  pulse,  and  see  how  I  am 
getting  on.  Make  another  face :  I'm  used  to  that 
one.  Oh,  I  got  a  beauty  then:  it  terrified  me. 
And  begin  your  ghost  story  quickly." 

David  had  no  idea  where  anybody's  pulse  was, 
so  he  began  his  ghost  story. 

"Once  upon  a  time,"  he  said,  "there  was  a 
ghost  that  lived  in  the  hot-water  tap." 

"Gracious,  how  dreadful!"  said  Miss  Muffet. 
"What  was  it  the  ghost  of?" 
[54] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"It  wasn't  the  ghost  of  anything,"  said  David. 
"It  was  just  a  ghost." 

"But  it  must  have  been  'of  something,"  said 
Miss  Muffet.    "The  King  is  the  King  of  Eng- 


THB  SPIDER  CHASES  MISS  MUFFET 


land,  and  I'm  Miss  MuiFet  of  nothing  at  all. 
But  you  must  have  an  'of.'  " 

"This  one  hadn't,"  said  David  firmly.  "It  was 
just  a  ghost.  It  groaned  when  you  turned  the 
hot  water  on,  and  it  squealed  when  you  turned  it 
off." 

[55] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  Miss  Muffet.  "I'm 
getting  quite  calm  again,  like  a  kettle  going  off 
the  boil.  Make  another  face.  Oh,  now  it's  too 
late!" 

There  came  a  tremendous  cantering  sound  be- 
hind them,  and  Miss  Muffet  opened  her  mouth 
and  screamed  so  loud  that  her  horn  spectacles 
broke  into  fragments. 

"Here  he  comes !"  she  said.  "0-oh,  how  fright- 
ened I  am!" 

She  gave  one  more  wild  shriek  as  the  spider 
leaped  on  to  the  tuffet,  and  began  running  about 
the  room  with  the  most  amazing  speed,  the  spider 
cantering  after  her.  They  upset  the  bathing- 
machine,  and  knocked  the  stuffed  horse  down, 
they  dodged  behind  the  butler,  and  sent  the  bee- 
hive spinning,  and  splashed  through  the  curds 
and  whey,  which  formed  a  puddle  on  the  floor. 
Then  the  door  through  which  David  had  entered 
flew  open,  and  out  darted  ^liss  Muffet  with  the 
spider  in  hot  pursuit.  Her  screaming,  which 
never  stopped  for  a  moment,  grew  fainter  and 
fainter. 

The  butler  gave  an  enormous  yawn, 
[56] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Cleaning  up  time,"  he  said,  and  took  a  mop 
from  behind  the  door,  and  dipped  it  into  the  pool 
of  curds  and  whey.  When  it  was  quite  soaked, 
he  twisted  it  rapidly  round  and  round,  and  a 
shower  of  curds  and  whey  deluged  David.  As  it 
fell  on  him,  it  seemed  to  turn  to  snow.  It  was 
snowing  heavily  from  the  roof  too,  and  snow 
was  blowing  in  through  the  door.  Then  he  saw 
that  it  wasn't  a  door  at  all,  but  the  opening  of  a 
street,  and  that  the  walls  were  the  walls  of  houses. 
It  was  difficult  to  see  distinctly  through  the  snow- 
storm, but  he  felt  as  if  he  knew  where  he  was. 


[57] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 


CHAPTER  III 

The  snow  cleared  as  swiftly  as  it  had  begun,  and 
David  saw  that  he  was  standing  in  the  High 
Street  of  the  village  near  which  he  lived.  It  was 
all  quite  ordinary,  and  he  was  afraid  that  he  had 
somehow  been  popped  back  through  the  blue 
door  during  the  snowstorm,  and  was  again  in  the 
stupid  dull  world.  Just  opposite  him  was  the 
post  and  telegraph  office,  and  next  to  that  the 
bank,  and  beyond  that  the  girls'  school.  There 
were  the  same  old  shops  too,  Mr.  Winfall  the 
tailor's,  and  the  confectioner's  and  the  boot- 
maker's, and  at  the  bottom  of  the  street  was  the 
bridge  over  the  river. 

"Well,  if  I  am  back  in  the  world  again,"  said 
David,  "it  would  be  a  pity  to  let  all  this  good 
snow  go  to  waste  without  its  being  tobogganed 
[58] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

on.  I'll  go  home,  I  think,  and  get  my  toboggan. 
I  wonder  how  they  did  it." 

He  started  to  go  down  the  street  to  the  bridge 
across  which  was  the  lane  which  presently  passed 
by  the  bottom  of  the  field  beyond  the  lake,  on 
the  other  side  of  which  was  the  garden,  where  was 
the  summer-house  in  which  he  had  left  his  to- 
boggan yesterday.  But  he  happened  to  look  a 
little  more  closely  at  the  bootmaker's  shop,  and 
instead  of  the  card  in  the  window  which  said, 
"Boots  and  shoes  neatly  repaired,"  there  was  an- 
other one  on  which  was  written  "Uncles  and 
Aunts  recovered  and  repaired." 

"I  suppose  they  recover  them  when  they're 
lost,  and  repair  them  when  they're  found," 
thought  David.    "But  it's  not  a  bit  usual." 

He  found  it  no  more  usual  when  he  looked  at 
the  girls'  school,  for  instead  of  the  brass  plate  on 
which  was  written  "Miss  Milligan's  School  for 
Young  Ladies,"  he  saw  written  there  "Happy 
Families'  Institute,"  and  in  the  window  of  the 
bank  a  notice  "Sovereigns  are  cheap  to-day." 

"I'll  go  in  there  at  once,"  thought  David,  "and 
buy  some.  I  wonder  how  much  money  I've  got." 
[59] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

He  found  four  pennies  in  his  pocket,  and  went 
in  with  them  to  the  bank.  The  manager  was 
there  talking  in  a  low  voice  to  a  very  stout  gentle- 
man with  a  meat-chopper  in  his  hand,  whom 
David  knew  to  be  the  Mint-man  from  London, 
just  as  certainly  as  if  he  had  had  it  written  all 
over  him.  What  made  it  absolutely  sure  was  the 
fact  that  sovereigns  kept  oozing  out  of  his  clothes 
and  dropping  on  the  floor.  There  was  quite  a 
pile  of  them  round  his  feet,  which  the  porter  who 
opened  the  door  to  David  kept  sweeping  up,  and 
putting  down  his  neck  again. 

"So  it's  only  the  same  sovereigns  all  over 
again,"  thought  David,  "but  there  must  be  a  lot 
of  them.    No  wonder  they're  cheap." 

He  walked  up  to  where  they  were  standing. 

"Please,  can  you  let  me  have  four  penny-worth 
of  sovereigns,"  he  said. 

The  Mint-man  blew  his  nose  before  he  an- 
swered, and  some  thirty  or  forty  sovereigns 
rattled  out  of  his  handkerchief.  "Do  you  want 
them  new-laid  or  only  for  cooking?"  he  asked. 

David  had  no  intention  of  cooking  them,  so 
he  said: 

[CO] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

*'New-laid,  please." 

The  Mint-man  picked  off  one  that  was  coming 
out  of  his  right  elbow,  another  from  his  tie,  an- 


DAVID  FINDS  THE  MINT-MAN  IN  THE  BANK 


other  from  his  bottom  waistcoat  button,  and  the 
fourth  from  his  knee,  and  gave  them  to  David. 

* 'It'll  never  do  if  other  people  get  to  know 
about  it,"  he  said.    "We  shall  be  having  all  the 
happy  families  in,  though  I  don't  suppose  they've 
[61] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

got  much  money.  Have  another  notice  put  up  at 
once." 

The  manager  took  an  enormous  quill  pen  from 
behind  the  counter.  It  reached  right  up  to  the 
ceiling  of  the  room,  and  he  had  to  hold  it  in  both 
hands.  Up  the  side  of  it  was  printed,  "Rod,  pole 
or  perch." 

"What  shall  I  say?"  he  asked. 

"You  may  say  whatever  you  like,"  said  the 
]Mint-man,  "but  you  must  write  whatever  I  like. 
Now  begin — 

"Sovereigns  are  five  pounds  two  ounces  each 
to-day,  but  they'll  be  dearer  to-morrow." 

"Then  will  you  please  give  me  five  pounds  for 
each  of  my  sovereigns?"  asked  the  greedy  David. 
"Never  mind  about  the  ounces." 

The  Mint-man  and  manager  whispered  to- 
gether for  a  little  while,  and  David  could  hear 
fragments  of  their  talk  like  "financial  stringen- 
cy," "tight  tendency,"  "collapse  of  credit,"  which 
meant  nothing  to  him.  All  the  time  the  porter 
was  shovelling  sovereigns  down  the  back  of  the 
Mint-man's  neck. 

*'The  only  thing  to  be  done,"  he  said^  "is  to 
[62] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

write  another  notice.  Write  'The  Bank  has 
suspended  payment  altogether.  The  deposits  are 
therefore  forfeited  by  square  root,  rule  of  three, 
and  compound  interest.'  What  do  you  make  of 
that?"  he  asked  David  triumphantly. 

David  knew  that  compound  interest  and 
square  root  came  a  long  way  on  in  the  arithmetic 
book,  and  that  he  couldn't  be  properly  expected 
to  make  anything  of  it.  Evidently  they  were  not 
going  to  pay  him  five  sovereigns  for  each  of  his, 
but  he  had  done  pretty  well  already,  with  his  four 
sovereigns  instead  of  four  pence. 

"I  don't  make  anything  of  it  yet,"  he  said, 
"because  I  haven't  got  so  far." 

"When  I  was  your  age,"  said  the  manager 
severely,  *'I'd  got  so  far  past  it  that  it  was  quite 
out  of  sight." 

The  Mint-man  nudged  him,  and  said  behind 
his  hand: 

"Never  irritate  the  young.  Keep  them  pleased 
and  simmering." 

He  turned  to  David  with  a  smile,  and  patted 
him  on  the  head.    Two  cold  sovereigns  went  down 
the  front  of  David's  jersey. 
£88] 


DAVID  BLAI2E  AND 

"We  have  read  your  references,"  he  said,  "and 
find  them  quite  satisfactory.  You  are  therefore 
appointed  honorary  errand-boy,  and  your  duties 
begin  immediately.  So  go  straight  across  to  the 
shop  where  they  repair  uncles  and  aunts,  and  see 
if  there's  a  golden  uncle  being  repaired.  If  there 
is,  tell  him  that  his  nephew — that's  you — wants 
him  to  come  out  to  tea — that's  here — and  that  the 
motor  will  be  round  immediately — and  that's 
where?" 

David  felt  that  he  didn't  want  to  be  errand- 
boy  to  the  bank  at  all,  but  somehow  he  seemed 
to  remember  having  sent  in  references.  What 
was  even  more  convincing  was  that  he  found  his 
sailor  clothes  had  disappeared,  and  that  he  was 
dressed  in  a  jacket  that  came  close  up  to  his  neck, 
and  was  covered  with  brass  buttons.  He  had 
black  trousers,  rather  tight,  and  a  peaked  cap, 
round  the  rim  of  which  was  written:  "David 
Blaize,  Esquire.  To  be  returned  to  the  bank  im- 
mediately.    This  side  up." 

But  after  he  had  received  his  appointment  as 
honorary  errand-boy,  nobody  attended  to  David 
any  more,  for  they  were  all  most  busily  engaged. 
r64l 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

The  manager  wheeled  in  a  tea-table  and  began 
arranging  tea-things  and  muffin-dishes  on  it,  then 
when  he  had  done  that,  brought  in  easy  chairs, 
and  a  piano  and  all  the  things  that  you  usually 
find  in  drawing-rooms,  while  the  Mint-man  made 
up  a  huge  fire  in  the  fire-place,  and  put  a  large 
saucepan  as  big  as  a  bath  upon  it,  into  which 
he  dropped  the  sovereigns  that  oozed  out  of  him. 
Meantime,  the  porter  had  gone  out  carrying  a 
ladder  and  a  pot  of  paint,  and  when  David  went 
out  too  on  his  errand,  he  had  already  painted  over 
the  signboard  outside  the  house,  which  said  it  was 
the  bank,  and  had  written  on  it: 

"This  is  the  house  of  David  Blaize,  the  nephew 
of  Uncle  Popacatapetl." 

"So  that's  the  uncle  who's  coming  to  tea  with 
me,"  thought  David.  "I  wonder  if  he  knows  who 
he  is  yet." 

The  snow  had  already  melted,  so  that  he  did 
not  again  consider  whether  he  should  go  tobog- 
ganing. It  had  gone  very  quickly,  but  everything 
seemed  to  happen  quickly  here.  It  could  hardly 
have  been  five  minutes  since  he  had  gone  into  the 
bank  with  fourpence  in  his  pocket,  and  here  he 
[65] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

was  with  four  sovereigns  instead,  a  complete  suit 
of  new  clothes,  an  uncle,  and  a  position  as  hon- 
orary errand-hoy.  He  crossed  the  street,  and 
entered  the  shop  where  hoots  and  shoes  used  to 
be  repaired,  but  where  now  they  repaired  uncles 
and  aunts. 

On  the  counter  there  lay  a  very  odd-looking 
old  gentleman,  dressed  in  rags  and  tatters  in 
about  equal  proportions.  His  hands  and  face 
were  quite  yellow,  and  wherever  there  was  a 
tatter,  or  there  wasn't  a  rag,  and  he  showed 
through,  he  was  yellow  there  too.  His  boots 
were  in  very  bad  repair,  and  a  great  golden  toe 
stuck  out  of  one,  and  a  golden  heel  out  of  the 
other:  in  fact,  there  could  be  no  doubt  at  all  that 
he  was  made  of  pure  gold,  and  as  he  was  being 
repaired,  he  was  also  either  an  aunt  or  an  uncle. 
But  though  one  of  David's  aunts  had  a  slight 
moustache,  he  had  never  yet  seen  an  aunt  with 
a  long  beard  and  whiskers,  and  so  without  doubt 
there  was  Uncle  Popacatapetl. 

The  bootmaker  and  his  wife  were  repairing 
him,  which  they  did  by  driving  nails  into  him,  so 
as  to  tack  down  the  rags  over  the  tatters.  If 
[66] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

there  was  a  very  big  tatter,  which  they  could  not 
cover  with  the  rag,  they  nailed  on  anything  else 
that  was  handy.    In  some  places  they  had  filled 


THE  RECOVERING  OF   UNCLE  POPACATAPETL 


up  the  gaps  with  pieces  of  newspaper,  match- 
boxes, and  bits  of  leather  and  sealing-wax,  and 
balls  of  wool,  and  apples  and  photogi-aphs. 
While  this  was  going  on.  Uncle  Popacatapetl 
kept  up  a  stream  of  conversation,  interspersed 
with  laughing. 

[67] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Anyhow  it  can't  hurt  him  much,"  said  David 
to  himself. 

"Delicious,  delicious!"  said  Uncle  Popacata- 
petl.  "Nail  the  toe  of  my  boot  a  little  more  firm- 
ly on  to  the  toe  of  me.  Put  a  paper-knife  there  if 
you  can't  cover  up  the  hole.    Now  my  gloves." 

He  put  on  a  pair  of  thick  white  woollen  gloves 
that  came  up  to  his  elbow. 

"Would  you  like  them  nailed  on  too,  sir?" 
asked  the  shoemaker. 

By  all  means.  Put  a  nail  in  each  finger,  and 
three  on  the  wrist,  and  ninety-eight  round  my 
elbows.  Did  you  gum  the  gloves  inside,  before  I 
put  them  on?" 

"I  glued  them  well,"  said  the  shoemaker's 
wife. 

"That'll  glue  then,"  said  Uncle  Popacatapetl. 
"I  think  when  I've  put  my  mask  on  the  disguise 
will  be  complete.  What  fun  it  all  is.  To  think 
of  the  Mint-man  having  traced  me  all  the  way 
here,  only  to  find  I'm  not  in  the  least  hke  me  any 
more.    Or  is  it  ever  more?" 

"Never  more,  ever  more,  any  more,"  said  the 
shoemaker,  with  his  mouth  full  of  nails. 
168] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"It's  every-more.  I  think,"  said  Uncle  Popa- 
catapetl,  "though  it  does  matter.  When  I'm 
finished,  and  when  you're  finished,  they  won't 
think  I  am  anything,  still  less  an  uncle.  I  don't 
suppose  they  ever  saw  anything  the  least  like  me, 
so  why''  he  added  argumentatively,  "should  they 
pitch  upon  uncle?" 

They  had  none  of  them  appeared  to  notice 
David  at  all  as  yet,  and,  as  he  was  an  errand- 
boy,  he  thought  he  had  better  proceed  with  his 
errand. 

"If  you  please,"  he  said,  "I  think  you're  my 
uncle,  and  I  should  like  to  have  you  come  to  tea 
with  me.  It's  quite  a  short  way,  in  fact  it's  only 
across  the  road,  but  the  motor  will  be  here  in  a 
minute,  so  that  you  can  get  in  at  one  door  and 
out  at  the  other." 

Uncle  Popacatapetl  sat  up  so  suddenly  that 
David  knew  he  must  have  a  hinge  in  his  back. 
He  looked  at  David,  but  he  couldn't  speak,  be- 
cause the  last  nail  the  shoemaker  had  driven  into 
him  had  fixed  his  beard  to  his  chest,  which 
naturally  prevented  him  moving  his  mouth.  But 
he  wrenched  off  the  pair  of  scissors  which  had 
[69] 


DAVID  BLA12E  AND 

been  nailed  into  his  knee,  and  cut  a  piece  of  his 
beard  off,  so  that  he  could  talk  again.  He  had 
turned  quite  pale  in  the  face,  which  was  the  only 
part  of  him  visible,  just  as  if  he  had  been  made 
of  silver. 

"Say  it  again,"  he  said. 

David  said  it  again,  upon  which  Uncle  Popa- 
catapetl  jumped  up  and  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

"It's  a  plot,"  he  said.  "That  used  to  be  the 
bank.  Now  it's  David  Blaize.  Has  it  been 
disguising  itself  too?  Because  if  so,  we're  as  we 
were,  and  I've  had  all  the  trouble  and  hammering 
for  nothing." 

He  began  to  cry  in  a  helpless  golden  sort  of 
manner.  The  shoemaker  had  followed  him  to 
the  window  to  repair  an  enormous  tatter  with 
very  little  rag  on  his  shoulder,  and  was  nailing 
bananas  on  to  it  to  cover  it  up.  But  he  was  so 
much  affected  by  Uncle  Popacatapetl's  misery 
that  he  hit  his  fingers  instead  of  the  nail  and 
began  to  cry  too,  sucking  his  injured  finger  and 
dropping  nails  out  of  his  mouth.  As  for  his  wife, 
she  gave  one  loud  sob,  and  tore  out  of  the  room, 
TTO] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

leaving  the  door  open.  They  heard  her  falling 
downstairs,  bumpity,  bumpity,  bumpity,  till  she 
came  bump  against  the  cellar  door. 

"Bumpity,  crumpity,  rumpity,  numpity, 
squmpity,  zumpity,"  said  the  shoemaker,  with 
a  sob  between  each  word.  "There  she  goes!  I 
don't  rightly  know  if  it's  her  crying  that  makes 
her  fall  down,  or  her  falling  down  that  makes  her 
cry,  but  it  don't  make  home  happy,  and  it's  a 
great  expense  in  sticking-plaster.  The  sticking- 
plaster  that's  come  into  this  house  would  be 
enough  to  paper  it." 

David  was  determined  not  to  cry  whatever 
happened,  for  it  never  did  any  good  to  cry,  and 
besides  something  must  be  done  at  once,  only  he 
had  not  the  least  idea  what  that  something  was. 
It  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  Mint-man  wanted 
to  get  Uncle  Popacatapetl  into  the  bank,  and  no 
wonder,  since  he  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold, 
with  all  the  bananas  and  matchboxes  thrown  in. 
And  he  thought  with  a  shudder  of  the  meat-axe 
and  the  saucepan  heating  over  the  fire.  Without 
the  least  doubt  Uncle  Popacatapetl  was  going  to 
be  chopped  up  and  melted  down  into  sovereigns. 
[Tl] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"It's  all  too  sad,"  sobbed  Uncle  Popacatapetl, 
"and  too  true  and  too  tiresome.  I  knew  they 
had  tracked  me  down  here — wow — wow — but 
when  I  saw  that  there  was  this  nice  respectable 
shop,  where  uncles  and  aunts — wow — wow — wow 
— could  be  recovered  and  repaired,  I  thought  I 
could  have  myself  recovered  and  repaired  out  of 
all  knowle  dge---wow — wow — wow — wow — and 
diddle  the  whole  lot  of  them.  Instead  of  which, 
they  send  in  my  beastly  nephew  to  ask  me  to  tea, 
and  then  they'll  chop  me  up,  and  make  sovereigns 
of  me.  I've  seen  their  signs  and  notices.  They 
tried  to  put  me  off  the  scent  by  saying  that  sov- 
ereigns were  cheap,  and  make  me  think  they 
didn't  want  me.  And  then  that  was  changed,  and 
they  said  sovereigns  were  dearer.  And  then  that 
was  changed,  and  they  suspended  payment  to 
make  me  think  that  they  weren't  collecting  gold 
any  more,  never  more  at  all.  Oh,  I  know  their 
cussedness.  And  just  when  everything  was  go- 
ing so  well,  and  I  was  going  to  walk  across  the 
street  as  cool  as  carrots  or  cucumbers,  and  I 
should  have  left  by  the  next  telegram  that  was 
sent  from  the  office.  Look  at  them  all  flying  in! 
[T2] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

And  there's  one  going  out  with  its  mackintosh 
on,  and  I  could  have  caught  it  as  easy  as  a  sub- 
traction sum  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  upset. 
Wow,  wow,  wow,  wow,  wow." 

David  felt  dreadfully  sorry  for  him,  but  what 
he  said  about  telegrams  was  quite  as  dreadfully 
interesting,  and  he  looked  out. 

It  was  quite  true :  there  was  a  whole  string  of 
telegrams  rushing  down  the  wires  towards  the 
post-office,  each  in  a  neat  mackintosh.  It  had 
begun  to  snow  again,  and  was  getting  dark. 

"But  why  have  they  got  mackintoshes  on?  "  he 
asked. 

"Well,  of  all  the  silly  nephews  that  ever  I 
had,"  said  Uncle  Popacatapetl,  who  had  stopped 
crying  as  suddenly  as  if  a  tap  had  been  turned 
off,  "this  one  takes  the  cake.  Why  do  you  wear 
a  mackintosh?" 

"To  keep  me  dry,"  said  David. 

"Well,  and  mayn't  telegrams  do  the  same?" 

asked  his  uncle.    "They  come  from  America  and 

Australia  and  Jerusalem,  and  did  you  ever  see  a 

wet  telegram,  though  it  had  gone  for  hundredf 

[73] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

and  billions  and  millions  and  thousands  of  miles 
under  the  sea?" 

"No,  they  all  seem  dry,"  said  David. 

"And  there  you  are,  sitting  there,"  said  the 
golden  uncle,  "and  wanting  to  deprive  them  of 
their  mackintoshes.  Crool,  I  call  it.  They  puts 
them  on  when  they  starts,  and  they  takes  them 
oif  when  they  arrive  and  cools  themselves." 

Uncle  Popacatapetl  had  begun  to  talk  so  like 
David's  father's  gardener,  that  again  he  was 
afraid  he  had  got  back  into  the  stupid  world. 

"I  sees  them  coming,  and  I  sees  them  going," 
said  his  uncle,  "and  who  so  free  I  arsk,  as  a  little 
ninepenny  telegram?  They're  cheap  at  the  price, 
they  are,  going  where  they  please  like  that -" 

He  gave  a  wild  shriek,  like  Miss  Muff  et  when 
the  spider  came,  and  snatched  the  mask  that  the 
shoemaker  was  holding. 

"There's  the  motor  come  for  me,"  he  sobbed, 
"and  what  is  a  poor  old  man  to  do?  Nail  my 
mask  on  quickly.  Don't  mind  my  eyes  or  my 
ears  or  anything." 

He  lay  down  in  the  window-seat,  and  David 
and  the  shoemaker  drove  nails  in  all  over  his  face, 
[74] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

Sometimes  the  mask,  which  was  that  of  a  young 
lady  with  pink  cheeks,  tore,  and  then  they  tacked 
on  buttons  from  David's  jacket,  or  bits  of  the 
window-curtain. 

"Don't  mind  me,"  Uncle  Popacatapetl  kept 
whimpering.  "There  goes  one  eye,  and  there 
goes  the  other,  but  make  it  safe  whatever  you  do. 
Cut  off  my  head,  if  that  would  make  me  look 
more  like  a  young  lady — but  I  won't,  I  won't,  I 
won't  look  like  anybody's  uncle.  They  may  take 
me  for  an  aunt  if  they  like,  or  a  nephew,  or  a 
niece,  but  I  won't  be  a  golden  uncle." 

The  mask  was  nailed  on  at  last,  and  Uncle 
Popacatapetl  sat  up. 

"Now  go  outside,  David,"  he  said,  "and  find 
out  exactly  what  sort  of  motor-car  it  is." 

David  very  obediently  went  out  into  the  street. 
It  looked  quite  different  now,  for  there  were  flags 
flying  from  every  house  with  the  inscription, 
"David  Blaize,  the  fireman's  son,"  which  was 
very  gratifying,  and  showed  a  pleasant  interest 
in  him  on  the  part  of  the  happy  families.  He 
felt  that  he  had  seen  a  card  of  himself  as  the  fire- 
jren's  son,  but  he  could  not  remember  his  mother 
[75] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

as  Mrs.  Blaize,  the  fireman's  wife,  or  his  father  as 
Mr.  Blaize,  the  fireman. 

But  that  was  not  the  immediate  business  in 
hand.  As  the  whole  street  was  decked  out  in 
honour  of  himself,  he  naturally  bowed  right  and 
left,  but  since  nobody  was  there,  it  did  not  matter 
much  whether  he  bowed  or  not.  Still  it  was  bet- 
ter to  be  polite.  Then  he  looked  in  front  of  him. 
There  stood  an  immense  motor-car,  that  buzzed 
in  a  most  sumptuous  manner.  It  was  pointing 
down  the  street  tow  ards  the  bridge  over  the  river, 
but  it  did  not  much  matter  which  way  it  pointed, 
because  the  bank  was  irmnediately  opposite. 
There  were  two  cords  attached  to  the  roof  of  it, 
and  attached  to  the  cords  were  a  couple  of  aero- 
planes, which  were  pointing  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection. On  the  pavement  were  standing  the 
chauffeur  and  two  pilots  of  the  flying-corps. 
They  all  saluted  smartly  as  David  came  out. 

"Three  cheers  for  David  Blaize,"  said  one  of 
them.  "Hip,  hip,  hip — I'm  blowed  if  I  know 
how  it  goes  on." 

"You  must  all  say  'Hurrah,'  "  said  David. 

They  all  said  "Hurrah,"  in  a  very  depressed 
[76] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

sort  of  voice,  and  one  of  the  airmen  said,  "Lor," 
these  civihans." 

*'Lor',  yourself,"  said  David,  rather  rudely. 
*'I  want  to  hear  about  the  motor-car." 

The  chauffeur  stroked  the  side  of  the  bonnet 
which  contained  the  engines. 

"She's  a  good  thing,"  he  said.  "She's  a  good 
going  concern.  But  throttle  her  up  never  so,  she 
won't  go  less  than  a  hundred  miles  an  hour.  So 
I  made  so  free,  your  honour,  since  that  was  above 
speed-limit,  to  harness  these  two  silly  aeroplanes 
which  between  'em  go  ninety  miles  an  hour  in  the 
other  direction.  That  brings  she  down  to  ten 
miles  an  hour,  and  no  one  can  say  a  word  against 
her." 

And  then  the  two  airmen  threw  their  caps  in 
the  air,  and  shouted  "Hurrah." 

This  was  all  very  clever  on  the  part  of  the 
chauffeur,  but  as  the  bank  was  just  opposite,  and 
all  that  the  motor-car  had  got  to  do  was  to  stand 
quite  still  while  Uncle  Popacatapetl  stepped  in  at 
one  side  and  got  out  at  the  other,  it  seemed  a  little 
superfluous.  But  David  appreciated  kind  inten- 
tions, and  next  minute  he  found  himself  hand-in- 
[T7] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

hand  with  the  chauffeur  and  the  airmen,  and  they 
were  all  dancing  in  a  circle,  singing. 

"Ninety  miles  one  ways,  and  a  hundred  miles  the  others. 
And  some  of  us  are  nephews,  and  all  of  us  are  broth- 
ers." 

"Then  are  you  ready  to  start,  your  honour," 
said  the  chauffeur,  when  they  had  finished 
dancing. 

David  pulled  himself  together. 

"Yes,  but  I  am  taking  an  invalid  with  me," 
he  said.  "It's  my  uncle,  who  is  far  from  well, 
like  the  spider!" 

"The  one  that  sat  down  next  that  old  woman,'' 
asked  the  chauffeur,  pointing  over  his  shoulder 
with  his  thumb.    "He's  all  right  again,  he  is." 

"It's  that  sort  of  illness,"  said  David.  "He's 
coming  to  tea  with  me,  but  he  had  better  have 
a  little  drive  first,  to  give  him  an  appetite.  We'll 
go  along  some  road  with  plenty  of  telegraph 
wires.    They  make  him  feel  better." 

The  window  of  the  shoemaker's  house  was 
thrown  open,  and  David's  uncle  looked  out  in 
his  mask. 

"Much  better,"  he  said.  "Better  much,  much 
[78] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

better,"  and  he  closed  it  again  so  violently  that  all 
the  glass  broke. 

"Crash!"  said  the  second  of  the  airmen.  He 
had  a  very  long  elastic  sort  of  nose,  which  David 
had  not  noticed  before.  Then  both  of  them  and 
the  chauif  eur  opened  their  mouths  very  wide,  as 
if  they  were  going  to  sing  again. 

"There  must  be  no  more  singing,"  said  David 
sternly,  and  they  all  shut  their  mouths  again  with 
a  snap. 

There  was  evidently  no  time  to  lose,  for  David 
could  hear  the  roaring  of  the  fire  in  the  bank 
opposite,  over  which  poor  Uncle  Popacatapetl 
was  to  be  melted  after  he  had  been  cut  up,  and 
against  the  red  glow  of  it  he  could  see  the  heads 
of  the  Mint-man  and  the  manager  pressed  so 
tightly  against  the  glass  that  the  tips  of  their 
noses  were  quite  white,  as  they  looked  out  and 
wondered  why  the  motor-car  didn't  return. 

"Come  on,  uncle,"  he  shouted,  "the  tea  will  be 
spoiled,"  and  he  gave  him  a  great  wink  to  show 
that  he  had  got  an  idea  in  his  head. 

So  the  chauffeur  got  into  his  place,  and  Uncle 
Popacatapetl  came  out  covered  with  apples  and 
[791 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

match-boxes  and  things  like  a  Christmas-tree, 
and  at  the  very  last  moment  David  undid  the 
buttons  of  the  cords  to  the  aeroplanes,  and  away 
they  flew,  leaving  the  airmen  gazing  up  at  them. 
Then  he  shut  the  door,  and  he  and  Uncle  Popa- 
catapetl  drove  ofl"  at  a  hundred  miles  an  hour 
down  the  street  to  the  bridge. 

"Turn  to  the  left  when  you  get  over  the 
bridge,"  shouted  David,  "and  drive  over  the  fields 
till  you  come  to  our  lake.  You'll  have  to  jump 
that,  but  after  that  there's  only  the  garden." 

"She  ain't  been  jumping  much  lately,"  said  the 
chauffeur. 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  shouted  David.  "Then 
go  to  the  garden  door.  I'll  hide  you  in  the  game 
cupboard,"  he  explained  to  his  uncle.  "There's 
lots  of  room  there  now  all  the  games  have  gone." 

Suddenly  there  came  an  awful  crash.     They  ^ 
had  run  into  the  railing  of  the  bridge,  and  the 
whole  motor-car  flew  into  several  million  small 
pieces,  and  there  were  David  and  his  uncle  standjj^^ 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

Uncle  Popacatapetl  began  whimpering  again. 

"I'm  a  poor  old  man,"  he  said,  "and  I  don't 

fso] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

know  whether  I'm  standing  on  my  head  or  my 
heels." 

David  looked  at  him  attentively. 

"I  think  you're  standing  on  your  heels,"  he 
said,  "but  it's  so  dark  I  can't  tell  you  for  cer- 
tain.   Wait  till  I  light  a  match." 

There  came  a  noise  of  running  behind  them, 
and,  before  David  could  be  sure  whether  his 
uncle  was  on  his  head  or  his  heels,  he  saw  the 
porter  and  the  Mint-man  and  the  bank  manager 
rushing  down  the  street  towards  them. 

At  that  very  moment  the  telegraph  wires  be- 
gan to  sing,  as  they  always  do  when  a  telegram 
is  coming  along  them,  and  looking  up  he  saw  a 
very  long  one  with  its  mackintosh  on  sliding 
down  the  wires.  It  was  so  long  that  it  came 
within  six  or  seven  feet  of  the  ground. 
^  "Quick,  jump  and  catch  hold  of  it,"  said  Dar 
vid,  "and  then  you'll  be  safe." 

Twice  Uncle  Popacatapetl  tried  to  jump,  but 

j^L^e  couldn't  jump  far  because  he  was  so  heavy, 

and  the  Mint-man  with  the  meat-chopper  in  his 

hand  was  close  upon  them.    But  the  kind  good 

telegram,  which  was  reply-paid,  reached  down  a 

[81] 


DAVID  BLAIZE 

hand,  and  pulled  him  up  at  the  very  moment 
the  Mint-man  and  the  manager  were  grabbing 
at  him.  They  just  missed  him,  and  the  Mint- 
man  being  unable  to  stop  himself  flew  over  the 
raihng  of  the  bridge,  followed  by  the  manager 
and  the  porter,  and  they  all  fell  into  the  river 
with  three  splashes,  each  louder  than  all  the  rest 
put  together. 

By  this  time  the  telegram  and  Uncle  Popa- 
catapetl  were  far  away  out  of  sight,  and  as  the 
chauffeur  had  vanished  too,  there  was  little  use 
in  David's  remaining  on  the  bridge  all  alone. 
He  tried,  as  long  as  his  match  burned,  to  put 
together  some  pieces  of  the  motor-car,  but  when 
that  went  out,  it  was  like  doing  the  most  awful 
jig-saw  puzzle  in  the  dark. 

So  he  walked  back  up  the  street,  for  there  was 
a  bright  light  coming  out  of  the  door  of  the  bank, 
which  looked  cheerful,  and  besides  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  been  sent  to  ask  his  Uncle  Pop- 
acatapetl  to  tea,  so  that  probably  there  would  be 
tea  ready. 

"It  must  be  time  for  tea,"  he  thought,  "be- 
cause it  has  been  dark  quite  a  long  time,  and  I 
[82] 


THE  TELEGRAM  RESCUES  UNCLE  P.   FROM  THE   MINT-MAN 

[83] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

haven't  had  it  yet.  Tea  always  comes  soon  after 
dark  even  on  the  shortest  days." 

By  the  bank  door  were  standing  the  two  air- 
men, whose  machines  he  had  unbuttoned.  They 
had  got  their  caps  on  the  side  of  their  heads  all 
right,  but  they  didn't  look  quite  like  ordinary 
airmen.  The  nose  of  one  had  grown  enormously 
since  David  saw  him  last,  and  he  waved  it  about, 
turning  up  the  end  of  it  in  a  manner  that  re- 
minded David  not  of  an  airman  at  all,  but  of 
some  quite  different  sort  of  creature.  The  other 
had  a  large  kind  face,  and  kept  moving  his  mouth 
round  and  round,  and  out  of  his  hair  there  dis- 
tinctly stuck  two  horns,  both  broken. 

As  soon  as  they  saw  David  they  ran  inside  the 
bank,  and  shut  the  door  in  his  face,  leaving  him 
out  in  the  dark  and  the  cold. 


[8*] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  IV 

David  felt  rather  hurt  at  this,  for  having  in- 
tended to  ask  them  to  tea,  it  was  vexing  to  find 
that  they  didn't  intend  to  ask  him.  But  before 
he  could  feel  much  hurt  the  window  on  the  third 
floor  was  thrown  open,  and  a  giraffe  looked  out. 
It  bent  down  to  David,  and  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"They'll  let  you  in  soon.    It's  a  surprise." 

*'Is  it  a  nice  one?"  asked  David. 

"That  depends  on  whether  you  like  it.  But 
I'll  stay  and  talk  to  you  till  they're  ready.  You 
begin." 

David  didn't  know  what  sort  of  conversation 
giraffes  liked,  but  he  supposed  that,  like  every- 
body else,  they  enjoyed  talking  about  themselves. 

"How  did  you  get  up  to  the  third  floor?"  he 
asked.     "I   should  have  thought  you  were  too 
tall  to  be  able  to  go  upstairs." 
[85] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"I  was,"  whispered  the  giraffe. 

"Then  how  did  you  get  there?"  said  David. 

"I  didn't.  I'm  on  the  ground  floor  all  the 
time,  and  I  can  feel  them  running  about  among 
my  legs.  Only  my  head  went  upstairs  in  order 
to  brush  its  hair.  That's  another  surprise;  you 
never  thought  of  that!  But  I  didn't  see  you 
jump  when  I  told  you.    Shall  I  jump  you?" 

"No.  I  think  I'll  stop  where  I  am,"  said  Da- 
vid. 

"Very  well.  I'll  tell  you  another  thing  too. 
Some  animals  are  so  short  that  they  have  to  go 
down  to  the  cellar  to  tie  their  bootlaces.  I  should 
think  you  were  one  of  that  sort,  aren't  you?" 

"Indeed  I'm  not,"  said  David  indignantly. 
"I'm  tall  enough  to  tie  my  bootlaces  anywhere.'* 

The  giraffe's  head  gave  a  great  jerk. 

"I  jumped  at  that,  you  see,"  it  said.  "That 
was  a  real  jumping  surprise.  I  should  never 
have  guessed  it." 

David  looked  up  at  the  mild  silly  head  above 
him.  Certainly  it  looked  surprised,  but  all  gi- 
raffes did  that. 

"I  live  on  surprises,"  said  the  giraffe.  "If  I 
[86] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

can't  get  a  proper  supply  of  them  my  eyebrows 
come  down." 

All  the  time  it  spoke  it  whispered  into  David's 
ear,  and  tickled  it. 

"Could  you  speak  a  little  louder  and  a  little 
farther  off?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  possibly,"  said  the  giraffe.  "My 
throat  is  so  long,  you  see,  that  if  I  speak  in  the 
ordinary  voice,  it  gets  quite  lost  before  it  comes 
out  of  my  mouth." 

David  guessed  this  was  another  surprise,  and 
remembered  to  jump. 

"That's  a  good  boy,"  said  the  giraffe  approv- 
ingly. "Now  I'll  tell  you  something  else.  I'll 
dance  with  you  when  they're  ready." 

"Oh,  is  it  going  to  be  a  dance?"  asked  David, 
who  didn't  care  about  dancing. 

"Some  of  it  is  going  to  be  a  dance,  and  then 
the  happy  families  give  a  concert,  and  then  I 
should  think  there  would  be  a  battle.  One  never 
can  tell  for  certain,  but,  with  so  many  soldiers 
about,  something  of  the  sort  is  bound  to  happen. 
But  the  dance  comes  first,  and  I'll  be  your  part- 
ner." 

[87] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Oh,  are  you  a  lady?"  asked  David. 

"I  should  think  so.  You  never  saw  a  gentle- 
man like  me,  I'll  be  bound." 

"Yes,  but  I  never  saw  a  lady  like  you  either," 
said  David. 

"Well,  you  see  one  now.  I  hope  you  can  re- 
verse well,  otherwise  we  shall  get  terribly  tangled 
up  with  the  staii'case.  I  feel  like  a  corkscrew 
already." 

The  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  Da- 
vid entered.  The  room  seemed  to  have  grown 
a  good  deal,  and  certainly  when  he  talked  to  the 
Mint-man  and  the  manager  not  long  before,  it 
hadn't  got  a  gallery  at  one  end,  and  a  large 
throne  below  it,  as  it  had  now.  It  was  quite  full 
of  animals  with  either  white  ties  or  tiaras  on, 
talking  to  each  other  about  the  weather.  Up  in 
the  gallery  were  the  Noah  family,  seated  side  by 
side  at  an  immense  piano,  which  they  were  all 
playing  on  simultaneously.  All  their  heads  were 
close  together,  for  they  had  only  one  copy  of 
music  to  play  from,  and  they  kept  knocking  ofP 
each  other's  hats,  and  quarrelling  as  to  when  it 
was  time  to  turn  over  the  page.  First  of  all  Noah 
[88] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

turned  over,  and  Ham  shouted  out  that  he  hadn't 
got  more  than  half-way  down  the  page,  and 
turned  back  again,  and  his  mother  said  she  had 
finished  that  page  five  minutes  ago,  and  turned 
over  two.  Then  they  all  grabbed  at  the  book 
together,  and  tore  the  pages  to  bits  with  one  hand 
while  they  went  on  playing  with  the  other.  Just 
as  David  came  in,  the  book  slipped  down  into 
the  inside  of  the  piano,  and  so  they  settled  to  go 
on  playing  by  heart.  As  none  of  them  knew 
how  to  read  a  single  note  of  music,  it  made  no 
difference  whether  there  was  any  music  there  or 
not. 

Below  the  gallery  was  the  throne,  all  covered 
in  chintz,  and  on  the  throne  sat  the  elegant  ele- 
phant. The  legs  of  the  giraffe  were  planted 
about  the  room,  and  the  body  of  it  went  up 
through  the  staircase.  The  elephant  still  had 
the  cap  of  the  flying-corps  on  his  head,  so  that 
David  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  he  who  had 
been  the  pilot  of  one  of  the  aeroplanes. 

It  seemed  evident  that  the  elephant  was  the 
host,  and  as  David  had  been  taught  always  to 
shake  hands  with  his  host  when  he  went  to  a 
[89] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

party,  he  sidled  through  the  crowd  of  animals  up 
to  the  throne. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said  to  the  elephant. 

*'I'm  not  doing  anything  at  present,"  said  the 
elephant,  "but  when  I  do,  I  shall  do  it  very  well. 
Who  asked  you  to  come?" 

"Nobody  exactly,"  said  David,  feeling  rather 
uncomfortable.    "I — I  understood  I  was  to." 

"Have  you  brought  your  card?"  asked  the  ele- 
phant. 

David  looked  down  and  found  he  w^as  in  his 
sailor  clothes  again,  and  pulled  a  handful  of 
cards  out  of  his  pocket. 

"Yes,  I've  got  lots  of  them,"  he  said,  "and  all 
yours  too." 

"Then  introduce  yourself,"  said  the  elephant. 

"I'm  David  Blaize,"  said  David. 

"I  knew  that.  Now  introduce  me,  and  there 
we  are.  In  order  to  introduce  me  properly,  you 
must  say  'Elegant  Elephant'  six  times  over  with- 
out stopping,  or  squinting,  or  stuttering.  Now 
begin." 

"Elegant  Elephant,  Ephalent  Egalent,  Ega- 
phent  Elelant,  Ephagant  Legegant,  Epbephant 
[90] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

Ephegal,  Egantel  Ephantel,"  said  David  all  in 
one  breath. 

There  was  an  awful  pause;  the  elephant's 
mouth  had  dropped  open,  and  he  turned  quite 
pale.  All  the  Noahs  stopped  playing  and  leaned 
over  the  edge  of  the  gallery,  and  several  of  their 
hats  fell  onto  the  floor.  Then  there  came  a 
dreadful  silence,  and  you  could  have  heard  a 
pin-partridge  drop. 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  talk?"  asked  the  ele- 
phant in  a  faint  voice. 

"I  didn't  learn  anywhere  particular,"  said  Da- 
vid. "It  happened.  But  it's  dreadfully  hard  to 
say  that  six  times.  I  don't  believe  you  could  do 
it  yourself." 

The  elephant  looked  round  in  a  frightened 
manner. 

"Change  the  subject,"  he  said  hurriedly. 
"Change  the  object,  change  places,  change  part- 
ners, change  your  money,  change  your  socks, 
change  the  weather,  change  everything.  But, 
whatever  you  do,  change  the  subject." 

He  was  so  distressed  at  the  thought  of  having 
[91] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

to  say  it,  that  David  felt  it  would  be  very  bad 
manners  to  insist  upon  it. 

"I  was  going  to  dance  with  the  giraffe,"  he 
said.  "Would  you  tell  me  how  to  do  it,  and 
where  I'm  to  begin?" 

The  elephant  grew  blue  again. 

"That's  a  good  boy,"  he  said.  "Begin  as  high 
up  as  you  can.  Take  one  leg  first,  and  let  the 
band  play  as  loud  as  possible." 

This  didn't  seem  very  promising,  but  David 
did  as  he  was  told,  and  put  his  arm  round  the 
foreleg  of  the  giraffe  that  was  nearest  him,  and 
began  revolving  about  it.  But  he  had  hardly 
begun,  when  he  found  that  he  could  shift  his 
hands  higher  up  the  leg,  and  still  higher,  for 
he  was  growing  in  the  most  extraordinary  man- 
ner. Soon  his  head  began  going  up  through  the 
staircase,  and  he  felt  his  arm  round  the  giraffe's 
waist.  Still  he  gi'ew,  his  head  passed  the  second 
storey,  and  came  up  to  the  third,  where  it  went 
into  an  attic  where  his  partner's  head  was.  One 
foreleg  of  the  giraffe  and  his  own  arm  stuck 
out  of  the  window,  and  they  kept  slowly  revolv- 
ing to  the  sound  of  the  piano.  They  were  get- 
[92] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  DANCES   WITH   THE   GIRAFFE 


[93] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

ting  fearfully  tangled  up  with  the  banisters  of 
the  stairs,  and  presently  they  began  to  reverse, 
and  unwound  themselves  again. 

"You  dear  creature,"  said  the  giraffe,  "I 
thought  you'd  grow,  though  I  wasn't  sure  about 
it." 

"I  don't  feel  very  comfortable,"  said  David. 
"And  I'm  so  afraid  we're  treading  on  all  the  ani- 
mals below." 

"I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised,"  said  the 
giraffe. 

"Don't  they  crowd  up  one's  ankles,  the  rude 
things.  We  might  stand  straight  up,  I  think 
now.  Butt  the  roof  with  your  head;  that  will 
give  us  more  room." 

David  did  as  he  was  told,  and  a  shower  of  tiles 
fell  round  them.  Some  dropped  down  his  jersey, 
and  he  could  hear  others  clattering  downstairs. 

"But  aren't  we  doing  a  lot  of  damage?"  asked 
David. 

"Quantities,"  said  the  giraff*e.  "Thump! 
There  goes  the  staircase.    I  knew  it  would." 

They  revolved  faster  and  faster,  and  the  stars 
spun  round  them.  Far  below  was  the  village 
[94] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

street,  down  which  David  could  see  all  the  ani- 
mals scampering  as  hard  as  they  could  go  from 
the  ruined  remains  of  the  bank. 

"Who'll  pay  for  it?"  asked  David  breathlessly. 

"Why,  you,  of  course,  dear!"  said  the  giraffe. 
"How  much  money  have  you  got?" 

"Four  pounds,"  gasped  David. 

"That's  plenty,  I  should  think,  though  I've  no 
Iiead  for  figures,"  said  the  giraffe.  "And  you 
might  give  me  the  remainder  for  a  surprise.  It 
would  keep  me  in  hoofs  and  hoof-laces  for 
weeks." 

"I'll  give  it  you  all,  if  we  may  only  stop  grow- 
ing and  dancing,"  said  David.  "And  please  don't 
tickle  my  ear  so  when  you  whisper." 

"I  can't  help  your  tickling,"  whispered  the 
giraffe.  "Just  as  you  couldn't  help  mine  if  I 
began  to  tickle.  Now  I'll  give  you  a  surprise.  If 
I  began  tickling,  we  should  both  begin  littling. 
But  as  long  as  I  don't  tickle,  we  shan't  little. 
There!" 

David  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  he  instantly 
thrust  his  fingers  into  the  giraffe's  ribs,  and  be- 
gan tickling  her.  She  gave  a  loud  silly  cackle, 
[95] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

and  he  felt,  to  his  intense  joy,  that  they  were  get- 
ting littler. 

"Stop,  stop!"  she  whispered,  but  she  couldn't 
say  much  because  she  was  laughing  so,  and  pres- 
ently David  found  himself  sliding  down  the  re- 
mains of  the  staircase,  and  back  into  the  ball- 
room. His  hands  slipped  down  and  down  her 
foreleg,  and  soon  he  was  his  own  size  again,  with 
those  four  great  legs  standing  among  the  ruins. 

But  even  as  he  looked  at  them,  still  panting 
with  the  exertion  of  growing  and  ungr owing 
again,  he  saw  that  they  were  not  legs  any  more, 
but  the  four  pillars  of  the  porch  of  the  house  next 
door,  which  had  been  the  girls'  school  and  was 
now  the  Happy  Families'  Institute.  As  he  stood 
there,  the  door  was  opened  a  foot  or  two,  and  a 
large  mutton  bone  flew  past  his  head. 

Before  it  closed  again,  a  hoarse  voice  from  in- 
side said: 

"I'll  just  have  time  to  have  my  second  helping 
before  the  concert.  That  sirloin  will  do.  Chuck 
it  over  here,  you  greedy!" 

Now  David  did  not  want  to  intrude  again 
without  being  definitely  asked,  but  he  had  a  sort 
[96] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

of  idea  that  though  nobody  had  asked  him  to  the 
animals'  ball,  he  had  been  expected  all  the  same, 
indeed,  that  the  whole  thing  had  been  got  up  for 
him.  Probably  it  was  the  same  case  here,  for  the 
giraffe  had  said  that  the  happy  families'  concert 
was  part  of  the  programme  for  the  evening,  and, 
after  all,  the  fact  that  quite  a  short  while  ago  the 
High  Street  had  been  decorated  with  banners, 
on  which  was  written  "David  Blaize,  the  fire- 
man's son,"  was  a  sort  of  invitation  from  the 
happy  families  to  become  one  of  them.  Also  he 
was  tired  of  growing  and  ungrowing,  and 
thought  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to  sit  down 
and  listen  to  a  little  music. 

So,  though  it  was  not  the  sign  of  great  cor- 
diality to  be  greeted  at  the  door  by  a  huge  mut- 
ton bone  thrown  at  your  head,  he  thought  it  bet- 
ter to  ring  the  bell — though  it  wasn't  a  bell  but  a 
coal-scuttle  hung  on  a  chain,  and  underneath  it 
was  the  instruction  "Knock  also."  So  he  first 
rang  the  coal-scuttle  and  then  knocked  it. 

It  sounded  as  if  all  the  dinner  bells  in  the  world 
had  been  pealed,  and  all  the  postmen  in  the  world 
had  come  with  letters.     He  felt  quite  ashamed 

[9r] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

of  having  made  such  a  tumult,  and,  with  the  gi- 
raffe still  in  his  mind,  stood  on  tiptoe  to  get  his 
mouth  close  to  the  bell,  and  whispered: 

"Hush,  please:  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so 
loud." 

The  noise  ceased  at  once,  and  dead  silence  suc- 
ceeded. Then  David  heard  a  little  cHnk  come 
from  the  letter-box  in  the  door,  and  he  saw  that 
the  shutter  of  it  had  been  raised,  and  that  Mr. 
Chip  the  carpenter  was  looking  at  him.  Then 
Master  Dose  the  doctor's  son  had  a  look,  and 
David  heard  him  giggling  as  he  passed  on  to 
make  room  for  Mr.  Bones  the  butcher.  After 
that  there  was  a  soimd  of  whispering  inside,  and 
he  tried  hard  not  to  hear  what  was  being  said. 
But  the  harder  he  tried,  the  more  distinctly  he 
heard  it. 

"It  doesn't  look  a  bit  like  him.  Where's  his 
fire?" 

"I  expect  they've  forgotten  to  mend  it.  It's 
gone  out." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense:  the  fireman's  family  put 
fires  out  themselves." 

[98] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"But  he  hasn't  got  a  ladder  or  anything  to 
show  who  he  is." 

"Nor  a  brass  helmet.  It  can't  be  the  one." 
David  tried  to  interest  himself  in  other  things, 
while  he  was  being  talked  about  like  this.  He 
found  he  was  dressed  in  a  sort  of  uniform  witli 
a  sword  by  his  side,  and  knee-breeches  and  a  blue 
riband  over  his  shirt,  and  a  quantity  of  stars  and 
medals  on  his  coat.  This  discovery  rather  con- 
soled him,  for  he  evidently  was  expected  at  some 
party,  since  nobody  dressed  like  this  except  for 
something  grand.  On  the  other  hand,  if  they 
were  expecting  him  to  look  like  a  fireman,  it  was 
no  wonder  they  had  their  doubts  about  him,  for 
he  could  not  imagine  putting  out  fires  in  this  cos- 
tume. But  he  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  the  door 
flew  open,  and  somebody  inside  called  out  in  cap- 
ital letters: 

"DAVID  BLAIZE,  THE  FIREMAN'S 
SON." 

He  entered  a  room,  dazzlingly  bright,  with  a 
stage  at  one  end,  and  rows  and  rows  of  chairs, 
four  on  one  side,  and  four  on  the  other  of  a  gang- 
[99] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

way  that  led  up  the  centre.  All  the  chairs  were 
occupied,  and  all  the  occupiers  had  their  backs 
to  the  stage,  and  were  looking  towards  the  door 
when  he  entered.  Over  each  group  of  four  chairs 
was  suspended  a  banner,  which  bore  the  name  of 
the  happy  family  which  occupied  it.  And  every 
member  of  every  happy  family  looked  at  him 
quite  steadily. 

David  bowed  a  great  many  times,  but  nobody 
took  the  least  notice,  and  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done  but  to  stand  still  until  something  hap- 
pened. Many  of  the  banners  were  familiar  to 
him:  there  were  the  Bones  family  of  butchers,  the 
Chip  family  of  carpenters,  the  Bun  family  of 
bakers,  the  Dose  family  of  doctors,  and  so  on; 
but  these  were  all  in  front  rows.  Behind  them 
were  a  quantity  of  families,  of  whom  he  had  nev- 
er heard  before.  There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Funk, 
the  bathers,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fuss,  the  train- 
catchers;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Talk,  the  tiresomes; 
and  ]Mr.  and  Mrs.  Green,  the  cabbages.  All  these 
were  complete  strangers  to  David,  and  he  felt 
shyer  than  he  had  been  even  when  he  had  to  in- 
troduce the  elegant  elephant  to  himself. 
[100] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

A  heavy  sigh  came  from  every  member  of  the 
old  happy  families  whom  David  knew,  and  they 
all  turned  round  in  their  seats  and  began  talldng 
to  each  other.  On  the  other  hand,  the  strange 
famihes  began  smiling  at  him,  and,  though  hd 
knew  none  of  them,  he  felt  grateful  for  their  sign 
of  friendliness,  for  it  was  a  very  lonely  thing  to 
go  to  a  concert  which  you  supposed  was  given  in 
your  honour,  and  find  all  the  people  that  you 
knew  turned  their  backs  on  you. 

Then  a  whole  family  suddenly  left  their  seats 
and  ran  up  to  David,  and  began  bowing  and 
curtsying.  They  had  come  from  a  set  of  chairs 
called  "Rhyme,  the  poets,"  and  though  David 
felt  grateful  to  them  for  being  so  kind  as  to  no- 
tice him,  he  was  rather  nervous  because  they 
might  expect  him  to  talk  about  poetry.  They 
had  all  books  under  their  arms,  and  pockets  bulg- 
ing with  pencils  and  pens,  and  as  they  sat  down 
round  him,  when  they  had  finished  bowing  and 
curtsying,  JNIaster  Rhyme  put  a  large  ink-bottle 
on  the  floor,  and  they  all  dipped  their  pens  in  it. 

Then  they  all  looked  at  each  other,  frowning, 
[101] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

as  if  they  were  trying  to  think  of  something,  and 
counting  syllables  on  their  fingers. 

"Ahem!"  said  Miss  Rhyme,  clearing  her 
throat.  "This  is  the  nicest  of  all  days,  because 
we  v/elcome  David  Blaize.    Go  on.  Pa." 

As  soon  as  she  had  spoken,  she  opened  her 
book  and  began  writing  in  it.  The  pages  were  al- 
ready quite  covered  up  with  other  writing,  but 
she  seemed  not  to  mind  that.  She  wrote  with  a 
pen,  and  put  the  tip  of  it  into  her  mouth  in  order 
to  get  blacker  marks  out  of  it.  Very  soon  her 
lips  were  all  covered  with  ink,  which  she  licked 
off  when  she  had  time.    Usually  she  hadn't. 

Mr.  Rhyme  began  writing  and  talking. 

"We  saw  at  once  that  you  were  not  one  of  the 
antiquated  lot,"  he  said.    "Your  turn,  Ma." 

Mrs.  Rhyme  stopped  counting  on  her  fingers 
and  frowning  on  her  face,  and  took  up  a  pencil 
in  one  hand  and  a  pen  in  the  other,  and  began 
writing  with  them  both  in  her  book.  Sometimes 
she  dipped  them  both  in  the  ink,  and  then  they 
both  wrote  ink,  and  sometimes  she  put  them  both 
in  her  mouth,  and  then  one  wrote  pencil,  and  the 
other  nothing  at  all,  because  she  had  sucked  the 
[102] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

ink  off.  She  seemed  to  be  writing  in  shorthand, 
for  it  consisted  of  hooks  and  dashes  and  strokes 
and  marks  like  footsteps  in  the  snow. 

"It  gives  us  all  the  utmost  joy,"  she  said,  "to 
welcome  here  a  human  boy.  They  say  your  name 
is  David  Blaize,  but  it  don't  matter  what  they 
says.    The  great  thing  is  to  stick  to  rhyme" — 

"And  make  up  verses  all  the  time,"  interrupt- 
ed Master  Rhyme,  who  began  writing  too. 
"We're  very  pleased  that  you  have  got  here." 

"I've  made  a  blot,  and  want  the  blotter,"  said 
Miss  Rhyme.  "Papa,  don't  jog  my  elbow  so,  it 
stops  my  inspiration's  flow." 

David  felt  his  head  going  round,  and  was  in  a 
perfect  agony  lest  he  should  be  expected  to  make 
poetry  too,  which  he  knew  he  was  quite  incapable 
of  doing.  But  by  this  time  the  whole  of  the  fam- 
ily were  all  writing  together,  and  making  poetry 
at  the  tops  of  their  voices  without  paying  the  least 
attention  to  him  or  to  each  other.  Blobs  of  ink 
were  flying  about  everywhere,  for  they  all  trie3 
to  dip  their  pens  and  pencils  in  the  ink-bottle  to- 
gether, and  they  kept  stabbing  each  other's  fin- 
gers with  their  nibs,  and  wiping  ofl"  the  blots  on 
[103] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

to  each  other's  sleeves,  or  on  to  David's  white 
stockings,  until  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  such 
a  noisy  and  messy  family.  Besides,  he  had  come 
to  listen  to  a  concert,  which  was  probably  going 
on  all  the  time,  if  only  he  could  hear  it. 

"I  wonder  if  we  had  better  talk  so  much,"  he 
said.    "I  believe  a  concert  is  going  on." 

"It  doesn't  rhyme,  you  silly  ass,"  said  Master 
Rhyme. 

"We  couldn't  ever  let  that  pass,"  said  his  sis- 
ter. 

"I  went  and  ate  a  few  meringues,"  shouted 
Mrs.  Rhyme,  "and  then  threw  twenty  boomer- 
angs." 

"She  threw  them  once,  she  threw  them  twice," 
screamed  ]Mr.  Rhyme.  "She  put  the  others  on 
the  ice.  The  cupboard  wouldn't  hold  them  all, 
and  so  she  nailed  them  on  the  wall.  She  put  them 
safe  there,  all  and  sundry,  intending  to  come  back 
on  Mondray." 

David  couldn't  stand  this  any  more,  for  there 

were  much  more  amusing  things  going  on.    The 

good  old  families  of  butchers  and  doctors  and 

bakers  and  sweeps  were  changing  places  with 

[104] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  AND  THE  RHYME  FAMILY 


each  other  exactly  as  if  they  were  being  collected. 
Some  voice  said,  "Mrs.  Dose,  the  doctor's  wife," 
and  Mrs.  Dose  left  her  seat  and  moved  some- 
where else.  Then  somebody  said  "Mr.  Dose,  the 
[105] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

doctor,"  and  another  voice  said,  "I  haven't  got 
him.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Dose,  the  doctor's  wife.  Thank 
you  .  .  ." 

David  looked  down  at  her  own  hand  for  a 
moment,  and  saw  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dose  were 
both  sitting  there,  and  he  supposed  it  must  have 
been  he  who  had  asked  for  them.  The  cork  of 
the  bottle  that  Mrs.  Dose  carried  was  continually- 
coming  out,  and  she  kept  murmuring  to  herself, 
"It's  a  glass  stopper,  I  want,  it  is!"  Miss  Bones 
was  sitting  there  too.  She  had  nearly  finished  the 
sirloin  of  beef  she  had  asked  for,  and  only  a  few 
shreds  of  meat  were  left  on  it. 

"Then  have  I  collected  you?"  asked  David. 
"I  can  ask  for  all  the  rest,  can't  I?  Is  nobody 
else  playing?" 

Miss  Bones  was  sitting  on  his  thumb.  Some- 
how she  looked  quite  life-size,  and  yet  David  did 
not  feel  any  bigger  than  she.  She  was  still  gnaw- 
ing her  sirloin  of  beef,  and  tore  oiF  large  pieces 
of  gristle  with  her  hands,  just  di'opping  them 
on  David's  knee,  or  on  the  note-books  of  the 
Rhyme  family  who  had  got  a  good  deal  smaller, 
but  were  still  sitting  round  him  and  writing. 
[106] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Collect  yourself,"  she  said.  "YouVe  got  to 
collect  yourself  before  you  win.  Where's  your 
father  and  mother,  for  instance?    Ask  for  Mrs. 


MISS  BONES   SITTING   ON    DAVID  S  THUMB 


Blaize,  the  fireman's  wife,  and  get  her,  and  then 
we  shall  begin  to  believe  in  you." 

David   thought   it  was   quite    silly   to  mind 
whether  Miss  Bones  believed  in  him  or  not.  But 
[107] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

he  knew  that  if  he  called  out  "Mother!"  or  "Mrs. 
Blaize,  the  fireman's  wife,"  nothing  whatever 
would  happen.  Yet  somehow  he  had  to  account 
for  Mrs.  Blaize,  the  fireman's  wife,  not  being 
there. 

"My  mother  isn't  feehng  very  well,"  he  said. 
"Perhaps  she  may  have  gone  to  sleep,  and  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  disturb  her." 

"Mother  malingering,"  announced  Miss  Bones 
contemptuously.     "Where's  your  father,  then?" 

David  suddenly  felt  that  this  was  a  most  ridic- 
ulous position.  Hitherto  he  had  always  played 
with  the  happy  families,  and  now  they  were  play- 
ing with  him.  And  they  were  so  fierce  and  un- 
kind, like  wasps. 

"I  can't  tell  where  my  father  is,"  he  said.  "I 
haven't  seen  him  all  evening.  And  I'm  getting 
so  tired:  mayn't  we  stop?" 

There  was  a  sudden  stir  among  the  newer  fam- 
ilies, and  ^Ir.  Funk,  the  bather,  ran  up  to  him. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  striped  bathing-dress,  and 
all  his  teeth  chattered. 

"I  believe  you're  a  Funk,"  he  said.  "I  believe 
[108] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

you  belong  to  my  family.  I'm  collecting  you. 
Come  on.  Master  Funk." 

"I'm  not  Master  Funk,"  said  David  indig- 
nantly.   "Haven't  got  him.    My  turn," 

Mrs.  Bones  threw  the  remains  of  her  sirloin  at 
the  Rhymes.  It  fell  in  their  ink-bottle  and 
splashed  them  frightfully,  but  they  were  already 
covered  with  ink  that  a  little  more  didn't  matter. 
She  wiped  her  mouth  with  the  back  of  her  hand, 
and  sidled  a  little  nearer  David. 

"That's  right:  it's  your  turn,"  she  whispered. 
"Remember  you've  got  me.    Don't  ask  for  me." 

"I  shouldn't  think  of  it,"  said  David.  "What 
I  want  is  the  concert.  I  came  here  for  a  concert. 
I  want  to  sit  down  and  be  quiet  a  little.  Nobody 
knows  all  the  things  I've  been  doing." 

"And  nobody  cares,"  said  Miss  Bones. 

David  felt  tired  of  this  contemptuous  treat- 
ment, and  stood  up. 

"I  won't  have  any  more  rudeness,"  he  said.  "I 

can  do  what  I  choose  with  you  all.     I  can  put 

you  all  back  in  your  case,  and  never  open  you 

again  till  you  get  mouldy,  like  the  ones  I  left  in 

C109] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

the  garden.  If  there's  no  concert,  just  tell  me 
so,  and  I'll  go  somewhere  else." 

Miss  Bones  shouted  out: 

"Mr.  Bradshaw,  the  Time-tahle,"  and  instant- 
ly there  was  a  Bradshaw  on  her  knee.  "There's 
the  11.29,"  she  said.  "You  might  catch  it,  or 
again  you  mightn't.  It  all  depends  how  you 
feel.  If  you  feel  in  a  hurry,  you'll  miss  it;  if  you 
feel  calm,  you  may  catch  it.  Will  you  have  one 
taxi  or  two?" 

"Why  should  I  have  two?"  said  David.  "It's 
only  me." 

"One  taxi  goes  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  two  go 
twenty,"  said  she.  "And  ten  go  a  hundred,  and 
a  hundred  go  a  thousand.  Say  what  you  can  af- 
ford, and  you  can  catch  any  train  up,  no  matter 
how  far  it  has  gone." 

David  had  not  really  meant  to  go  away  by 
train  at  all,  but  somehow  it  seemed  all  settled  for 
him,  and  instantly  all  the  happy  families  began 
blowing  on  things,  with  piercing  shrieks,  to  sum- 
mon his  taxi,  or  the  hundred  taxis,  or  however 
many  they  thought  good  for  him.  Miss  Bones 
picked  up  her  sirloin,  and  blew  on  that,  Mr.  Chip 
[1101 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

the  carpenter  blew  on  his  gimlet,  Mrs.  Dose  blew 
her  bottle,  and  Miss  Bun  her  bun.  Never  since 
the  flame-cats  had  mewed  and  squealed  to  ac- 
company their  dances,  had  David  heard  such  a 
deafening  noise.  Quantities  of  steam  appeared 
to  come  out  of  their  instruments  also,  and  soon 
the  whole  room  was  filled  with  it  and  whistlings. 
Then  the  steam  began  to  clear  again  a  little, 
though  the  whistling  got  no  less,  and  whether 
or  no  David  had  come  in  a  taxi,  he  had  certainly 
arrived  at  a  station. 


[111]! 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 


CHAPTER   V 

There  were  huge  piles  of  luggage  all  round 
David,  as  he  saw  when  the  steam  cleared  away 
a  little.  There  were  trunks,  portmanteaux,  dress- 
blankets,  lunch-baskets,  tea-baskets,  gun-cases, 
golf-clubs,  gladstone-bags,  carpet-bags,  des- 
patch-cases, hat-boxes,  collection-boxes,  band- 
boxes, hampers,  milk-cans,  hold-alls,  fish-bas- 
kets, safes,  unsafes  (the  sort  that  fly  open  as  you 
are  getting  into  the  train) ,  Christmas  boxes,  rug- 
straps,  and  a  sort  of  palisade  of  umbrellas  and 
sticks  on  the  top.  All  of  them  had  green  printed 
labels  on,  and  wherever  he  turned,  he  saw  that 
the  labels  were 

David  Blaize^  Esq.^ 

Passenger  to  Anywhere. 
"That's  no  earthly  use  at  all,"  thought  David. 
[112] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


•'  ^  ^y?^ 

HT-'' 

y^         •     ^^Hty 

^^iI|Jh* 

Ej^^: 

^w 

Mi^ 

■^IMKS^ 

I^S^^s^ 

y^^\^^ur~>- 

J^^^^sgi7».j^^> 

^H  ^^^^^^^^&^^ 

WV    ^'i^T'" 

2S|^P^ 

W^K^x^P 

w^9 

^^^^mv 

Imh^^S^ 

^^^8 

L^^^K 

BHHRc^W^t''^s=:— —-is 

^•o  ^  A;  aJ^'^^"^ 

■^B^Sj^tl^  -/ :_■  -  — ^f^ 

«M~^^^^^^ 

^^     ^^^ 

yMh^^^^^m 

W^^^^^^^^ 

^^I^F^rL^i^^ 

IhMi^^^^ 

^^^^^P^ffil 

^M 

^o 

BRj^S 

iwv^^^j^^iP 

^^w 

DAVID  AND  THE  COW  PORTER  ON  THE  PILE  OF  LUGGAGE 


"It  doesn't  tell  me  where  I'm  going.    And  how 
did  I  get  so  much  luggage?" 

He  began  climbing  up  the  wall  of  luggage 
that  was  made  of  the  more  solid  pieces,  when  he 
[113] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

heard    somebody    climbing   up    the    other    side. 

"Hurrah,  it's  probably  a  porter,"  he  said  to 
himself.     "Hi,  porter!" 

"I'm  coming,"  said  a  slow,  placid  voice.  "Moo! 
I'm  coming." 

The  first  thing  that  came  over  the  edge  of  the 
wall  of  luggage  was  the  cap  of  a  flying  man, 
then  two  broken  horns,  then  a  mild  hairy  sort  of 
face,  the  mouth  of  which  went  round  and  round. 

"Oh,  are  you  the  cow  and  the  other  pilot?" 
asked  David. 

"Hush,"  said  the  cow.  "I'm  incognito,  dis- 
guised as  a  porter,  and  collecting  evidence." 

"What  about?"  asked  David. 

"Anything,  as  long  as  it's  evidence.  Don't 
give  me  away,  and  I'll  help  you.  Is  this  all  you've 
got?  That's  nothing  to  what  people  travel  with 
now." 

"Yes,  that's  all,"  said  David.  "At  least  I  sup- 
pose that's  all." 

"You  mayn't  have  less  than  a  hundred  pieces, 
and  they  must  all  weigh  a  hundred  pounds  each," 
said  the  cow,  referring  to  a  blue  paper  of  regula- 
[114] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

tion  which  she  carried.     "But  I  won't  take  no 
notice  if  you're  a  bit  under  weight." 

The  cow  had  climbed  up  a  little  higher,  and 
David  could  see  she  had  a  dark  blue  coat,  with 
a  red  tie  like  the  people  at  Waterloo. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  get  you  out  first,"  said 
the  cow.  "You  seem  sort  of  hemmed  in.  If 
you'll  stop  just  where  you  are,  I'll  butt  my  way 
somewhere.  Steady  now,  stop  just  where  you 
are." 

David  clung  to  the  portmanteau  which  was  on 
the  top  of  the  pile,  and  heard  the  cow  retreat 
a  few  steps,  and  breathe  heavily. 

"Now,  I'm  coming,"  she  said,  and  next  mo- 
ment she  charged  through  a  weak  part  of  the 
wall,  which  consisted  only  of  lighter  articles  like 
dressing-cases  and  gun-cases  and  bags  of  golf- 
clubs.  A  lunch-basket  had  stuck  on  her  horns, 
and  she  shook  her  head  till  it  fell  off  with  a  great 
clatter  of  tin-plates  and  knives  and  forks. 

"That  was  a  good  bit  of  evidence,"  she  said, 
panting.    "What  train  are  you  going  by?" 

"The  11.29  I  think,"  said  David. 

The  cow  looked  at  the  labels. 
[115] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"That's  all  right  then,"  she  said.  "That's  the 
one  that  goes  Anywhere.  It's  whistling  loud 
still,  so  you've  got  heaps  of  time.  There's  more 
time  than  luggage." 

"But  doesn't  its  whistling  mean  that  it's  just 
going  off?"  asked  David.  He  had  a  firm  idea  in 
his  mind  that  he  jmist  catch  the  11.29,  or  the 
whole  plan  would  go  wrong. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  dearie,"  said  the  cow.  "It 
whistles  loudest  when  it's  going  to  stop  longest, 
and  whistles  faintest  when  it's  going  to  stop 
shortest.  Now  if  it  was  whistling  soft,  we  should 
have  to  hurry.  The  moment  it  stops  whistling 
altogether,  then  it's  oif ,  and  you  have  to  wait  for 
the  next.  Usually  there  isn't  a  next,  and  then 
the  trouble  begins." 

"Then  do  they  whistle  all  the  time  they  stand 
still?"  asked  David. 

"Naturally.  When  they  go,  there's  something 
else  to  think  about." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  mild  milky  sort  of 
eye.  She  was  dressed  in  a  large  jacket,  and  a 
pair  of  trousers  which  covered  her  completely  all 
but  her  face  and  her  tail. 

[116] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"And  to  think  that  I  ever  thought  of  tossing 
you,"  she  said.  "Well,  bye-gones  are  gone-byes, 
and  now  I  feel  like  a  mother  to  you.  Let's  get 
going  with  your  bits  of  luggage,  or  the  train 
j^ou're  going  to  get  will  get  gone." 

She  took  up  four  or  five  bags  on  her  horns,  put 
some  of  the  lighter  stuff  like  gun-cases  and  golf- 
clubs  over  her  ears,  and  then  turned  her  back 
to  David. 

"Just  sling  the  rest  on  my  tail,"  she  said. 
"Stick  it  through  the  cords  or  through  the 
handles.    You  just  put  it  on." 

She  moved  backwards  and  forwards  in  the 
most  obliging  manner,  while  David  put  her  tail 
through  the  handles  of  boxes  and  portmanteaux, 
just  as  you  would  string  beads  on  to  a  thread. 
Her  tail  had  a  surprising  sort  of  spring  in  it,  and 
when  he  had  put  it  through  a  cord  or  a  handle, 
she  gave  it  a  little  jerk,  and  the  box  hopped 
along  it.  Very  soon  all  the  heavy  stuff  was  neat- 
ly strung  on  her  tail,  and  she  took  up  the  sticks 
and  umbrellas  that  lay  about  on  the  platform,  in 
her  mouth. 

"Now,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  hold  on  to  the 
[117] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

end  of  my  tail,"  she  said,  "and  off  we  go  to  the 
11.29.    There's  no  more  evidence  about  here." 

They  threaded  their  way  down  miles  of  crowd- 
ed platforms  past  train  after  train  that  was  puff- 
ing and  whistling  to  show  that  it  wasn't  going 
yet.  Occasionally  one  stopped  whisthng,  on 
which  all  the  doors  slammed,  and  next  moment 
there  wasn't  any  train  there  at  all.  There  were 
a  tremendous  lot  of  people  travelling;  now  and 
then  in  the  crowd  he  got  a  glimpse  of  some  one 
he  knew  hke  Miss  Muffet,  or  the  shoemaker,  or 
members  of  the  happy  families,  but  for  the  most 
part  they  were  all  strangers.  The  cow's  head, 
wreathed  in  luggage,  seemed  miles  away,  but 
very  soon  David  found  there  was  a  sort  of  tele- 
phone in  her  tail,  and  he  talked  to  the  end  of  it, 
asking  whatever  he  wanted  to  know,  and  then 
put  it  to  his  ear.  When  she  wished  to  speak  to 
him,  a  bell  rang  at  the  end  of  it. 

*'I  haven't  got  my  ticket  yet,"  said  David. 

"Of  course  not.  You  don't  know  where  you're 
going  yet,"  said  she.  "Travellers  by  the  Any- 
where Express  take  their  tickets  when  they've 
got  there.  Otherwise  you  might  take  a  ticket  say 
[118] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

for  France,  and  find  yourself  at  Fiji,  and  the 
ticket  wouldn't  be  any  use." 

"Is  the  Anywhere  Express  likely  to  go  abroad 
this  time?"  asked  David,  who  would  have  en- 
joyed that. 


DAVID  USES  THE  TELEPHONE  IN  THE  COW  PORTER  S  TAIL 


"Nothing's  likely  with  the  Anywhere  Express. 
It  never  goes  where  you  expect  it  to.     It's  the 
unlikeliest  thing  that  ever  happened.    But  it  al- 
ways goes  to  lots  of  somewheres,  which  is  why 
[1191 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

it's  the  Anywhere.    You  see  it  takes  hundreds  of 
somewheres  to  make  an  Anywhere." 

"Does  it  go  every  night?"  asked  David. 

"It  goes  every  day  and  every  night,"  said  the 
cow.  "But  it  only  goes  from  here  when  it  has 
got  here.  I  should  think  it  was  five  or  six  years 
since  it  was  here  last.  I  saw  it  once  when  I  was 
a  calf." 

"Then  shan't  I  get  back  here  for  five  or  six 
years?"  asked  he. 

"Round  about  that,  I  should  say.  Here  we 
are.  It's  begun  to  whistle  softly.  You'll  take 
all  your  bits  of  things  in  the  carriage  with  you, 
I  suppose,  and  then  you'll  have  them  handy,  in 
case  of  being  hungry  or  if  it  rains,  or  there's  a 
cricket  match.    Which  glass  do  you  go,  dearie?" 

"Which  glass?"  asked  David. 

"Yes;  there's  first  glass,  where  you  can  see 
out  of  the  windows,  and  second,  where  you  can't, 
and  third,  where  there  aren't  any  windows  at  all, 
and  very  few  doors.  I  always  go  second,  be- 
cause it's  ugly  country  hereabouts." 

"But  it  might  be  pretty  farther  on,"  said  Da- 
vid. 

[120] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

*'PIease  yourself,  dearie,"  said  the  cow. 
"Here's  a  beautiful  carriage  now.  That'll  make 
a  sweet  home  for  you  for  five  or  six  years." 

David  followed  the  cow,  when  she  had  finished 
sticking  in  the  door  into  the  carriage.  It  was  a 
large  bare  room  with  a  quantity  of  hooks  on  the 
walls,  and  a  small  three-legged  stool  standing  in 
the  middle  of  it. 

"Now  I'll  get  rid  of  your  luggage,"  said  the 
cow. 

She  began  tossing  the  pieces  on  her  horns  in 
the  neatest  manner  on  to  the  hooks.  Then  she 
switched  her  tail,  and  the  portmanteaux  and 
dress  baskets  and  wine-cases  and  all  the  heavier 
things  flew  this  way  and  that  on  to  their  hooks, 
or  piled  themselves  in  the  corners. 

David  looked  round  his  sweet  little  house  with 
some  dismay. 

"But  if  I  get  very  sleepy,  can't  I  go  to  bed?" 
he  asked. 

"Why,  of  course  you  can,"  said  the  cow.  "You 

can  go  to  bed  anywhere  you  like  all  over  the 

floor,  or  you  can  hang  yourself  up  to  a  hook,  or 

get  inside  a  portmanteau.    And  the  motion  will 

[121] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

never  disturb  you,  as  it's  an  empty-speed  ex- 
press." 

"What's  that?"  asked  David. 

"Why,  a  full-speed  express  goes  as  fast  as  it 
can,  doesn't  it?  And  an  empty-speed  express 
goes  as  slow  as  it  can.  Hullo  I  It's  stopped 
whistling." 

The  cow  jumped  out  of  the  door,  which  im- 
mediately slammed  to  after  her,  and  disappeared 
among  the  crowd  on  the  platform.  The  train 
started  at  a  great  speed,  so  it  seemed  to  David, 
but  as  it  got  going,  it  went  slower  and  slower, 
until  he  could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  mov- 
ing at  all.  He  felt  rather  lonely  at  the  idea  of 
spending  five  or  six  years  in  the  train,  but  after 
all,  if  it  moved  so  slowly,  it  would  not  be  difficult 
to  jump  out.  Unless  he  found  another  cow- 
porter,  which  didn't  seem  likely,  he  would  have 
to  leave  his  luggage  behind,  but  he  would  not 
7-eally  miss  it  much,  since  he  had  never  had  it 
before,  and  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  it 
contained. 

A  pecking  noise  at  the  window  attracted  his 
[122] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

attention,  and  he  saw  a  crow  sitting  on  the  ledge 
outside. 

"Let  me  in,"  it  said.  "It's  time  to  rest.  I 
shall  stop  flying  for  the  present." 

David  let  down  the  window,  and  the  crow  flut- 
tered on  to  the  floor. 

"But  if  you  stop  flying,  shall  I  become  invis- 
ible?" he  asked. 

"Yes,  of  course.  You're  getting  dim  now. 
Pop !    Now  you've  gone." 

David  held  up  his  hand  in  front  of  him,  but 
he  could  see  nothing  at  all  of  it.  It  must  have 
been  there,  because  when  he  touched  the  end  of 
his  nose  with  it,  it  felt  quite  solid.  But  he  had 
certainly  vanished  for  the  present,  for  there  was 
nothing  whatever  of  him  to  be  seen. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  interfere  with  me  like 
that,"  he  said.  "You  wouldn't  like  it  if  I  made 
you  invisible." 

The  crow  had  put  its  head  under  its  wing,  arid 
tucked  up  one  leg,  and  its  voice  sounded  muffled. 

"You  seem  to  think,"  it  said,  "that  everything 
is  to  be  managed  as  you  want  it.  But  if  you 
imagine  I'm  going  to  go  on  flying  all  night,  with- 
ri23] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

out  a  rest,  just  in  order  to  keep  you  visible,  you 
make  a  mistake.  You  aren't  so  pretty  as  all 
that,  my  young  fellah." 

*'But  you'll  fly  again  before  long,  won't  you?" 
asked  David. 

All  the  answer  he  got  was: 

"Haugh!  Rumph,  haugh!  Rumph!  Rumph!" 
for  the  crow  had  gone  fast  asleep,  and  was  snor- 
ing. 

David  poked  it  with  the  place  where  his  fingers 
usually  were,  to  wake  it,  but  it  only  snored  loud- 
er and  louder.  Then  he  picked  it  up  and  shook 
it,  but  the  only  result  was  that  its  snoring  be- 
came perfectly  deafening. 

"I'll  drop  it  out  of  the  window,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "and  then  it  must  fly." 

But  this  was  no  good,  for  the  crow  didn't  even 
take  its  head  from  under  its  wing,  or  put  its  leg 
down,  but  fell  quietly  on  to  the  ground  below 
the  window,  without  waking.  Just  then  there 
came  a  bend  in  the  line,  and  though  the  train 
was  scarcely  moving  at  all,  it  was  soon  out  of 
sight. 

"Well,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  thought  David, 
[124] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"and  so  I  may  as  well  go  to  sleep  too.  It  seems 
to  make  one  sleepy  to  be  invisible." 

Then,  so  he  supposed,  he  must  have  gone  com- 
pletely to  sleep,  for  when  the  next  thing  hap- 
pened, it  was  quite  light.  As  he  had  been  travel- 
ling since  11.29  p.m.,  it  was  perfectly  obvious 
that  it  was  now  morning.  For  some  reason  he 
felt  inclined  to  lick  his  hand  and  rub  it  behind 
his  ears,  but  he  remembered  that  only  cats  did 
that,  and  instead  he  drew  his  three-legged  stool 
to  the  window  and  looked  out.  He  found  he  was 
visible  again,  and  supposed  the  crow  must  have 
begun  flying. 

The  train  seemed  to  be  running  very  slowly 
round  and  round  a  field.  Occasionally  it  stopped 
dead,  and  began  to  whistle,  but  usually  it 
splashed  quietly  along,  into  puddles  and  out  of 
puddles,  without  any  lines  in  front  of  it.  Some- 
times they  curved  a  little  to  avoid  a  tree,  but 
they  crushed  their  way  through  an  ordinary 
hedge,  and  birds  flew  out  scolding  them  and  say- 
ing, "I  wish  you  would  look  where  you  are  go- 
ing." Then  a  voice  from  the  engine  said,  "Sorry; 
[1251 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

you  have  been  troubled,"  jtist  like  a  young  lady 
in  the  telephone  exchange. 

But  the  country  seemed  familiar  to  David,  and 
presently  he  saw  that  the  train  was  in  a  field 
just  beyond  the  High  Street  of  the  village  he 
had  left  at  11.29.  It  was  slowly  going  back  to 
it  again,  to  a  spot  some  fifty  yards  away  from 
the  place  they  had  started  from.  Then  it  began 
to  make  a  very  sharp  curve,  in  order  to  avoid  a 
horse  that  was  lying  down  in  the  field,  and  the 
engine  came  just  opposite  his  window. 

"A  rare  good  run,  David,"  shouted  the  en- 
gine-driver. "We  shall  stop  at  the  hairdresser's 
in  a  minute  now,  if  you  want  to  have  anything 
done." 

David  had  not  had  his  hair  cut  lately,  so  this 
seemed  rather  a  good  opportunity. 

"How  long  do  we  stop  there?"  he  shouted. 

"Two  or  three  weeks.    You'll  just  have  time." 

In  spite  of  the  slowness  with  which  they  were 
moving,  there  was  a  tremendous  rattle  of  wheels 
somewhere,  and  the  noise  seemed  to  come  from 
overhead.  Then  looking  up,  he  saw  that  there 
:were  hundreds  of  wheels  all  turning  roimd. 
[126] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

There  were  long  bands  hanging  from  them,  and 
just  then  the  engine  began  whistling  to  show  it 
had  stopped.  Clouds  of  steam  poured  in  through 
the  carriage  window,  and,  as  that  cleared  away, 
David  saw  that  he  was  standing  in  the  hairdress- 
er's shop,  and  that  underneath  the  wheels  was 
sitting  a  row  of  old  gentlemen  having  their  heads 
brushed  with  circular  brushes.  Others  were  be- 
ing shampooed,  others  were  apparently  having 
their  heads  painted,  others  were  having  break- 
fast, but  they  were  all,  without  exception,  abso- 
lutefy  bald. 

There  was  a  looking-glass  in  front  of  each  of 
them,  and  David  saw  the  face  of  a  kind  old  gen- 
tleman in  it.  The  looking-glasses  were  of  the 
sort  that  stood  on  his  mother's  dressing-table, 
which  showed  your  left-hand  side  where  the 
bruise  was,  which  came  when  you  fell  out  of  a 
tree,  and  your  right-hand  side,  where  a  tooth  had 
been  taken  out,  and  full  face  where  both  these 
things  happened.  And  in  each  looking-glass  was 
the  reflection  of  a  bald  old  gentleman,  nodding 
and  smiling  at  him. 

After  his  solitary  night  in  the  train,  David 
[127] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

longed  for  a  little  conversation  again,  and  he 
went  to  the  nearest  old  gentleman,  who  was  eat- 
ing eggs  and  bacon,  while  the  hairdresser  scrub- 
bed his  head  with  the  circular  brush. 

"Good  morning,  David,"  said  he.  "Have  you 
had  a  good  journey?  The  hard  brush,  please,'* 
he  added  to  the  hairdresser.  "That  doesn't  do 
me  any  good.  Aha,  aha,  that's  better.  And  now 
I'll  have  a  shampoo." 

David  thought  this  rather  an  odd  way  of  doing 
things,  since  you  usually  had  your  shampoo  first, 
and  your  brushing  afterwards,  but  the  hairdress- 
er didn't  seem  to  mind.  The  old  gentleman  bent 
over  the  basin,  with  his  eggs  and  bacon  on  his 
knee,  and  continued  breakfasting. 

"Boiling  or  freezing,  sir?"  asked  the  hair- 
dresser. 

"Boiling  first  and  then  freezing,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  his  mouth  full.  "No,  freezing 
first  and  boihng  afterwards.  And  where  did  you 
come  from?"  he  asked  David. 

"From  the  house  next  the  Bank,  I  think,"  said 
David.    "I  came  by  the  11.29." 
[128] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"A  fine  train,"  said  he,  "a  very  fine  train. 
There's  nothing  slower  anywhere." 

The  hairdresser  wrapped  a  towel  round  his 
head,  and  began  drying  it. 

"And  what  will  you  have  on,  sir?"  he  asked. 

The  old  gentleman  considered  a  little. 

"I  think  a  map  of  south-west  London  would 
be  best,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  up  there  next  week, 
and  I  don't  know  my  way  about.  It  would  be 
very  tiresome  to  get  lost.  But  if  you  give  me 
a  nice  map  of  south-west  London,  with  25 
Brompton  Square  marked  in  red,  why,  all  I 
shall  have  to  do,  if  I  get  lost,  is  to  ring  the  near- 
est bell  of  the  nearest  house,  and  ask  for  a  couple 
of  looking-glasses." 

"What  for?"  asked  David. 

"Why,  I  shall  sit  in  front  of  one,  and  reflect 
the  top  of  my  head  in  the  other.  Then  I  shall 
see  where  I  am,  and  where  I  want  to  go  to.  Send 
the  geographer  and  the  painter  at  once." 

This  old  gentleman  got  so  interested  in  his 

map  that  he  did  not  talk  to  David  any  more, 

and  so  he  strolled  on  to  the  next  one,  who,  so  he 

learned,  was  going  to  Egypt,  and  was  having  a 

[129] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

spider's  web  painted  on  his  head  to  keep  the  flies 
off.  He,  too,  seemed  to  know  David,  which 
made  it  very  pleasant. 

"And  so  you've  come  by  the  11.29,"  he  said. 
**A  dangerous  trip,  because  you  go  so  slow  that 
it's  almost  impossible  to  stop  in  case  of  an  ac- 
cident. I  leave  for  Egypt  by  the  same  train.  I 
wonder  if  it  would  be  wiser  to  have  some  fly- 
papers as  well.  Or  a  picture  of  a  mummy  or 
two,  to  give  me  local  colour." 

"Whatever  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  hair- 
dresser. 

"Well,  we  can't  go  wrong  with  a  mummy.  I 
think  a  mummy  and  a  spider's  web,  and  leave 
out  the  fly-papers." 

The  next  old  gentleman  was  having  his  own 
face  painted  in  oils  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
he  put  his  finger  on  his  lip,  and  beckoned  with 
the  other  hand  to  David. 

"Is  it  like  me?"  he  whispered.  "Give  me  your 
candid  opinion.    Don't  mind  the  artist." 

He  nodded  his  head  up  and  down,  so  that  Da- 
vid should  see  his  real  face  and  his  painted  face. 
[130] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Very  like  indeed,"  said  David.  "But  what's 
it  for?" 

He  assumed  an  air  of  great  secrecy. 

"You  mustn't  tell  anybody,"  he  said.  "Do 
you  promise?" 

"Yes,"  said  David. 

"Well,  if  I  have  my  own  face  at  the  back  of 
my  head,  it  will  be  such  a  puzzle.  People  in  the 
street  will  see  me  looking  at  them,  as  if  I  was 
coming  towards  them,  and  all  the  time  I  shall 
be  going  away.    What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"It's — ^it's  certainly  very  puzzling,"  said  Da- 
vid. 

"Isn*t  it?  And  then  when  I'm  tired  of  going 
that  way,  I  shall  begin  to  walk  backwards,  and 
all  the  people  the  other  side  of  me  will  think 
the  same  thing.  In  quite  a  short  time  nobody 
will  know  where  I  am.  I  shall  always  be  going 
away  when  they  think  I'm  coming,  and  when 
they  think  I'm  coming  I  shall  always  be  going 
away." 

"But  that's  the  same  thing,  isn't  it?"  asked 
David. 

He  took  no  notice  of  this,  and  called  out  to 
[131] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

the  painter,  who  had  R.A.  embroidered  on  his 
collar. 

"Mind  you  put  a  cigarette  in  my  mouth.  And 
then  this  side  will  smoke  a  pipe.  That'll  puzzle 
them  worse  than  ever.  It  will,  it  will — won't 
it?"  he  said  to  David  triumphantly. 

David  could  not  understand  what  it  was  all 
about,  but  at  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
the  cow  looked  in. 

"Passengers  by  the  Bald  Express  to  take  their 
seats,"  she  called.  "All  others  to  remain  stand- 
ing." 

Instantly  there  was  a  scene  of  the  utmost  con- 
fusion, and  all  the  old  gentlemen  began  running 
into  each  other.  The  worst  of  them  was  the  one 
who  had  had  his  face  painted  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  because  nobody  could  possibly  guess  which 
way  he  was  coming.  But  by  degrees  the  room 
cleared,  as  the  whisthng  of  the  engine,  which  had 
gone  on  all  the  time,  grew  fainter,  and  finally, 
when  it  stopped,  David  found  himself  quite 
alone.  The  sound  of  wheels  going  round  over- 
head ceased,  and  its  place  was  taken  by  a  rumble 
that  gradually  got  less.  He  ran  out  on  to  the 
[132] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

platform,  and  there  was  the  empty-speed  ex- 
press crawling  out  of  the  station,  carrying  the 
kind  old  gentlemen  to  Egypt  and  London  S.W., 


THE    BALD-HEADED    MEN    IN    THE    HAIRDRESSER  S    GET    UP    TO 
CATCH  THE  TRAIN 


and  wherever  the  backward-forward  one  meant 
to  puzzle  people.  He  felt  that  it  must  be  quite 
easy  to  catch  it  up,  but  the  faster  he  ran  the  far- 
ther he  got  away  from  it.  At  last,  perfectly 
breathless,  he  stopped,  not  quite  certain  whether 
[133] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

he  really  wanted  to  catch  it  or  not.  He  longed 
to  know  if  the  spider's  web  would  keep  off  the 
flies,  or  the  map  of  London  S.W.  show  the  other 
old  gentleman  where  he  was,  but,  after  all,  there 
were  so  many  different  things  to  explore. 

He  began  to  run  again,  after  he  had  got  his 
breath,  not  after  the  train  any  more,  but  Any- 
where. He  felt  that  with  every  step  he  took  he 
was  getting  lighter,  and  in  a  minute  he  was  run- 
ning on  the  very  tips  of  his  toes.  Then  his  left 
foot  didn't  touch  the  ground  at  all,  and  then  his 
right  foot.  He  simply  found  himself  running  in 
the  air. 


[134] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  VI 

Dayid  gave  a  great  kick  with  his  left  foot  to 
make  sure  it  wasn't  touching  anything.  Cer- 
tainly it  touched  nothing,  but  he  felt  the  air 
stream  swiftly  by  him.  Then  he  kicked  with  his 
right  foot,  and  the  same  thing  happened. 

"I  do  believe  I'm  flying,"  said  he  aloud.  "Now 
there's  a  hedge  coming.  If  I  am  really  remem- 
bering how  to  fly,  and  if  I  kick  downwards,  I 
shall  get  over  it." 

He  made  a  sort  of  spring  in  the  air,  and  bound- 
ed high  over  the  hedge  without  even  touching  its 
topmost  twigs. 

"It's  all  quite  easy,"  he  shouted.  "I  must  re- 
member carefully  how  it's  done.  You  run,  and 
then  you  get  on  the  tips  of  your  toes,  and  then 
you  run  a  little  more,  and  then  you're  up.  If 
you  want  to  get  higher  you  kick  downwards.  And 
[135] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

I  suppose  if  you  want  to  go  downwards,  you 
just  take  a  sort  of  little  header." 

This  answered  perfectly.  He  had  been  learn- 
ing to  swim  lately,  and  made  a  bob  with  his  head, 
and  spread  his  arms  in  front  of  him.  Next  mo- 
ment he  was  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  ground, 
and  kicked  downwards  again  to  bring  himself 
up. 

"Now  I'll  float,"  he  said,  "and  see  what  hap- 
pens." 

He  spread  his  arms  and  legs  out  like  a  star- 
fish, drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked  at  the  sky, 
as  his  father  had  taught  him  to  do.  This,  too, 
succeeded,  and  he  found  himself  motionless  in 
the  air,  perhaps  drifting  a  little  in  the  morning 
wind. 

"I'll  go  higher  now,"  he  said.  "I'll  just  wan- 
der up  to  the  top  of  the  elm  trees,  and  see  what's 
going  on  there." 

He  calculated  his  distance  pretty  well  for  a 
beginner,  and  a  few  downward  kicks  in  the  air 
brought  him  brushing  against  the  topmost 
boughs  of  the  ehn  that  stood  on  the  far  side  of 
the  lake  beyond  the  garden.  It  seemed  to  be 
[136] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


# 

^^^B 

tS 

* 

/7 

p 

^  ^"^ 

1 

■^  c) 
T5  // 

> 

|£ 

s 

1 

^ 

^ 

-,^% 

c^ 

1 

HOW   CANON   AND   MRS.   ROOK    QUARRELLED  OVER  A  STICK 


spring-time,  for  there  was  a  great  commotion 
among  the  rooks,  as  he  pushed  the  young  green 
leaves  aside  and  looked  in.  A  pair  of  them  were 
quarrelling  as  to  which  way  a  particular  stick 
ought  to  be  laid,  one  wanting  it  laid  crossways, 
[137] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

the  other  straight.  They  had  lived  for  years  be- 
fore they  came  here  in  a  cathedral  close,  and  were 
always  known  as  Canon  and  Mrs.  Rook.  But 
when  they  saw  him,  they  stopped  arguing. 

"Why,  bless  me,  you've  remembered  it  at 
last,"  said  Canon  Rook.  "And  it  doesn't  make 
you  feel  giddy,  does  it?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  David.  "It's  the  loveliest 
thing  that  ever  happened.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  before  how  to  do  it?" 

"Bless  you,  we  were  telling  you  all  day  long," 
said  Mrs.  Rook,  "but  you  always  pretended  to 
forget." 

Suddenly  it  struck  David  that  he  had  known 
how  to  fly  all  his  life,  but  had  merely  forgotten. 

"Why,  of  course,  I  knew  all  along,"  he  said. 
"And  shall  I  always  be  able  to  fly  now  ?" 

"Until  the  next  time  that  you  forget.  But 
boys  are  forgetful  creatures,  you  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Rook. 

"So  are  girls,"  said  David.  "But  I  won't  for- 
get this  time.  And  may  I  try  to  pass  my  flying 
certificate  at  once?" 

"Why,  certainly,'*  said  Canon  Rook,  "if  we 
[138] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

can  get  a  committee  together.  Birds  are  a  bit 
busy  now  that  it's  building  time,  but  it's  not 
every  day  that  a  boy  comes  up  for  his  flying  cer- 
tificate, and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  came. 
I'll  go  and  call  them." 

He  flew  up  to  the  very  topmost  twig  of  the 
elm,  and  balanced  himself  there. 

"Urgent  call — caw,  caw,"  he  shouted.  *'A 
young  gentleman  has  just  come  up  here  to  try 
for  his  flying  certificate,  if  the  committee  will 
kindly  attend.  Urgent — caw,  caw,  caw,"  he  re- 
peated. 

Instantly  there  was  a  chirping  and  calling  of 
birds  on  all  sides,  from  the  other  elms,  and  from 
the  fields  below,  and  the  bushes  and  the  lake.  A 
pair  of  brown  owls  were  the  first  to  arrive  from 
the  ivy  in  the  church  tower,  with  their  spectacles, 
without  which  they  cannot  see  by  day.  Then 
came  a  cloud  of  finches :  bull-finches,  green-finch- 
es, haw-finches,  and  chaf -finches ;  and  wood  pig- 
eons came  cooing  in,  and  a  couple  of  jackdaws, 
who  tried  to  talk  to  David  in  his  own  tongue,  and 
thought  they  could  do  it  very  well  indeed,  though 
all  they  could  say  was  "Jack"!  Jays  came 
[139] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

screaming  out  of  the  wood,  with  nice  fresh  paint 
on  the  blue  streaks  on  their  wings,  and  wood- 
peckers tapped  to  know  if  they  had  come  to  the 
right  ehn,  and  there  were  nightingales  learning 
the  new  tunes  for  the  year,  and  blackbirds,  al- 
ready getting  a  little  hoarse,  singing  the  Febru- 
ary tunes.  Herons  came  clattering  up  from  the 
lake,  and  teal  and  wild  duck,  and  moorhens  tried 
to  join  them,  but  they  couldn't  fly  as  high  as  this, 
and  only  flapped  about  the  lake,  saying  "Hear, 
hear!  Hear,  hear!"  A  pheasant  with  burnished 
copper  plates  on  his  back,  rocketed  up,  and  a 
woodcock  or  two,  flying  "flip-flap,  flip-flap,"  and 
swifts  and  martens  cut  circles  and  loops  in  the 
air.  There  was  a  nightjar  who  opened  his  mouth 
very  wide,  and  made  a  sort  of  gargling  noise  in- 
stead of  singing,  and  linnets,  and  robins  which 
hadn't  finished  dressing,  and  were  still  buttoning 
their  red  waistcoats,  and,  like  a  jewel  flung 
through  the  early  morning  sunlight,  a  kingfisher 
came  and  perched  on  David's  shoulder.  Larks 
left  the  tussocks  of  grass  in  the  meadow  below, 
and  carolled  their  way  upwards,  and  wild-eyed 
hawks  sat  a  little  apart,  for  fear  they  should  be 
[140] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

too  much  tempted  at  the  sight  of  so  many  plump 
birds  all  assembled  together.  So  they  sat  on  an- 
other branch,  and  shut  their  mouths  very  tight, 
as  if  they  were  eating  caramels,  remembering 
that  when  a  flying  committee  is  assembled  it  is 
considered  very  bad  form  to  eat  your  fellow- 
members.  There  were  freshly  varnished  star- 
lings, and  speckled  thrushes,  and  hundreds  of 
rude  noisy  sparrows,  and,  long  before  all  the 
committee  were  assembled,  half  the  elms  in  the 
rookery  were  crowded  with  birds,  for  the  passing 
of  a  human  candidate  was  a  very  unusual  event 
indeed,  and  nobody  wanted  to  miss  it. 

David  felt  rather  frightened  when  the  test  for 
the  birds'  flying  certificate  was  explained  to  him, 
for,  of  course,  that  is  a  much  stiff  er  examination 
than  anything  that  happens  to  the  young  gentle- 
men in  the  flying  corps.  Not  only  had  he  got  to 
do  all  the  clumsy  man-tricks  which  they  perform 
with  their  aeroplanes,  in  which  they  don't  really 
fly,  and  are  only  flown  with,  but  some  bird-tricks 
as  well,  and  to  get  his  certificate  he  had  to  satisfy 
every  single  one  of  the  committee,  which  now 
consisted  of  several  thousand  people.  But  Can- 
[141] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

on  Rook,  who,  as  he  had  summoned  the  commit- 
tee, was  chairman  of  it,  told  him  not  to  be  afraid. 

"You  can  remember  all  right,"  he  said,  "and 
besides,  each  bird  who  sets  a  question  will  show 
you  first  what  you've  got  to  do.  Caw!  Silence, 
please." 

But  it  took  a  long  time  to  get  silence  this 
morning,  for  nesting  was  going  on,  and  all  the 
ladies  were  talking  about  the  different  linings 
for  nests,  and  the  best  way  of  stitching  and  hem- 
ming them.  Some  said  "mud,"  and  some  said 
"feathers,"  and  some  said  "bits  of  things,"  an  1 
the  kingfisher  said,  "Give  me  fish-bones."  How- 
ever, the  birds  round  Canon  Book  began  calling 
"Silence"  too,  and  by  degrees  this  spread  until 
the  whole  committee  was  calling  "Silence"  at  the 
tops  of  their  voices,  and  making  far  more  noise 
than  ever.  But  this  was  a  step  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  soon  the  hubbub  died  down,  and  Canon 
Book  spoke  again. 

"The  candidate  is  David  Blaize,  a  boy  still 
quite  unfledged,  except  on  the  top  of  his  head," 
he  said,  "and  his  age  is  six." 

"Rather  old!"  cooed  a  wood  pigeon. 
[142] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Yes,  but  it's  better  late  than  never,"  said 
Canon  Rook,  "and  I'm  sure  we're  all  very 
pleased  that  he  has  remembered  how  to  fly  at 
last.  He'll  probably  be  a  bit  stiff  from  age,  and 
you  mustn't  expect  too  much.  He  will  now  please 
jump  off,  loop  the  loop  twice,  and  return  to  his 
seat.    Caw." 

David  had  often  seen  the  airmen  doing  that, 
and  he  jumped  off  the  bough  and  made  two  very 
neat  loops  without  any  difficulty,  and  returned 
again,  brushing  the  hair  out  of  his  eyes. 

"Right,  O!"  screamed  the  whole  of  the  com- 
mittee. 

"Spinning  nose-dive!"  said  Canon  Rook. 

David  remembered  that  too.  You  had  to  put 
your  head  down,  and  spin  like  a  dead  leaf  on  a 
windless  day.  It  made  him  a  little  giddy,  but 
the  committee  were  pleased  with  him,  and  only 
the  owl  said  that  his  conscience  would  not  allow 
him  to  pass  that,  since  he  did  not  call  it  flying  at 
all,  but  falling.  So  all  the  rest  chattered  and 
screamed  and  sang  at  him  till  his  spectacles  fell 
off,  which  made  his  conscience  get  quite  confused 
and  forget  what  it  wouldn't  allow  him  to  do. 
[143] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

Then  followed  the  tail-slip,  in  which  David 
stretched  out  his  legs  in  front  of  him  and  held 
his  toes  in  his  fingers,  so  that  he  sat  down  in  the 
air  and  slid  backwards,  just  as  if  there  wasn't 
a  chair  there  when  he  had  expected  one. 

That  finished  the  first  part,  and  then  all  the 
committee  began  talking  at  once  in  order  to 
settle  what  bird-tricks  he  should  have  to  do.  They 
were  inclined  to  let  him  off  rather  easily,  because 
it  was  considered  a  sporting  thing  for  a  boy  to 
attempt  the  bird-test  at  all,  and  they  made  up 
their  three  thousand  minds  that,  if  he  did  one 
bird-trick  perfectly,  that  would  be  enough.  Then 
when  all  the  birds  had  shouted  "Silence"  until 
they  were  quite  hoarse,  Canon  Rook  cleared  his 
throat  and  spoke. 

"The  bird-test  is  as  follows — caw,"  he  said. 
"The  candidate  will  attempt  to  do  the  lark-trick, 
starting  from  the  ground  and  returning  to  it 
again.  Show  him  what  he's  got  to  do,  one  of 
you  larks." 

A  lark  dropped  from  the  tree  and  crouched 
in  a  tussock  of  grass.  Then  it  jumped  off  the 
ground  and  began  mounting  in  a  perpendicular 
[144] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

line,  rising  very  slowly  and  singing  as  it  went. 

When  it  had  got  to  the  top  of  its  flight  it  hov- 
ered there,  and  slowly  descended,  still  singing. 
About  ten  feet  from  the  ground  it  stopped  sing- 
ing, and  dropped  plump  into  the  tussock  from 
which  it  had  risen. 

"Candidate,  please,"  said  Canon  Rook, 

"Must  I  sing  too?"  asked  David. 

"Of  course  that's  part  of  it,"  said  the  lark, 
still  rather  breathless.  "Any  one  could  do  it 
without  singing." 

"Strictly  speaking,  it's  not  a  singing  compe- 
tition," said  Canon  Rook.  "Can  you  sing?"  he 
asked  David. 

David  remembered  how  Noah  had  offered  him 
a  post  to  sing  in  opera  in  the  ark,  evenings  and 
matinees,  and,  though  no  doubt  birds  were  a 
more  musical  audience,  he  felt  that  it  would  be 
untrue,  after  that,  to  say  he  couldn't  sing. 

"Yes,  I  can  sing,"  he  said.  "At  least  Noah 
thought  so." 

"I  think  he'd  better  have  a  try  first,"  said  the 
nightingale.  "It  would  be  awful  if  he  sang  very 
badly  all  the  time,  and  we  had  to  bear  it  till  he 
[145] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

got  down  again,  as  the  committee  mayn't  inter- 
rupt a  candidate  in  the  middle  of  a  test." 

"Sing  a  few  bars,  David,'*  said  Canon  Rook. 

It  had  been  the  tune  of  "Rule  Britannia"  sung 
to  the  words, 

"Never  do,  never  do. 
Never,  never,  never  do." 

that  had  pleased  Noah  so  much,  and  David  be- 
gan to  sing  them  again.  But  he  had  hardly  sung 
the  first  line  before  the  nightingale  and  the  black- 
birds and  the  thrushes  and  the  other  professional 
musicians  all  turned  quite  pale  and  swooned. 
They  were  gradually  restored  by  being  fanned 
with  their  friends'  wings,  but  they  still  trembled, 
and  were  floppity.  Other  birds  were  merely  in 
shrieks  of  laughter,  and  David  felt  very  much 
confused,  till  a  corncrake  perched  on  his  knee  and 
said: 

"You  sang  excellently,  quite  excellently:  don'€ 
mind  them." 

But  it  was  unammously  decided  that  David 
should  not  sing  while  he  did  the  lark-flight,  and 
he  jumped  off  the  bough,  and  stood  in  a  privet- 
[146] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

bush,  which  was  to  do  duty  for  a  tussock  of  grass, 
as  he  was  too  big  for  a  tussock.  In  order  to  make 
his  performance  more  life-like,  it  was  settled  that 
all  the  larks  should  sing  together  as  he  mounted 
and  descended,  stopping  when  he  was  three  feet 
from  the  ground,  for  he  was  too  heavy  to  drop 
from  ten  feet. 

"One,  two,  caw,  three,  off,"  said  Canon  Rook. 

David  gave  a  little  spring  in  the  air  as  he  had 
seen  the  lark  do,  and  began  treading  air  with  his 
feet,  and  beating  gently  downwards  with  his  out- 
spread fingers,  and  as  he  took  flight  it  sounded 
in  that  still  bright  air  as  if  all  the  larks  in  the 
world  had  begun  to  sing.  He  found  he  mounted 
rather  too  quickly  at  first,  and  so  ceased  treading 
air,  using  his  hands  alone.  Slowly  he  mounted 
and  the  music  of  the  larks  entered  his  heart  and 
made  him  feel  happier  than  he  had  known  it  was 
possible  to  be.  He  gasped  with  pleasure  as  he 
rose,  like  when  you  sit  in  your  bath  on  a  cold 
evening,  and  pour  the  first  spongeful  of  hot  wa- 
ter down  your  back,  only  now  it  was  spring 
and  singing  and  flying  that  tingled  all  over 
him.  He  hung  high  above  the  tree-tops  in 
[147] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

the  blue,  and  the  earth  was  like  one  flower  be- 
neath him.  Long  he  hovered  there,  and  then  with 
a  sigh  began  slowly  to  descend.  There  was  dead 
silence  in  the  tree-tops  where  the  committee  sat, 
except  for  the  singing  of  the  larks,  but  he  knew 
that  hundreds  of  bright  eyes  were  watching  him, 
to  see  if  he  was  really  flying  as  larks  fly. 

At  length  the  topmost  twigs  of  the  privet-tree 
hit  his  foot,  and  he  folded  his  hands  across  his 
chest  and  dropped. 

Instantly  the  most  tremendous  hubbub  of  bird 
voices  broke  out,  and  the  clapping  of  thousands 
of  wings. 

"That'll  do,"  they  all  shouted.  "It's  silly  to 
have  any  more  examination,  especially  since 
we're  all  so  busy.  He's  a  real  lark,  and  as  a 
lark's  a  bird,  he's  a  bird-boy,  and  he  can  fly  just 
as  larks  fly,  so  give  him  his  certificate.  Well 
done,  David,"  and  a  whole  cloud  of  birds  began 
settling  all  over  him. 

"Lift  him  up,"  they  afl  chirped.  "Don't  fly, 
David ;  we're  going  to  carry  you.  Keep  your  legs 
and  arms  still,  or  we'll  peck  you.  Carry  him  up. 
[1481 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  DOES  THK  LARK-FLIGHT 

[149] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

One,  two,  three — away  we  go.     Lord,  what  a 
weight  a  boy  is!" 

Some  took  hold  of  his  hair  with  their  beaks, 
others  grasped  his  clothes  in  their  claws,  others 
took  hold  of  his  bootlaces,  and  with  David  lying 
back,  laughing  partly  from  joy,  and  partly  be- 
cause they  tickled,  they  hoisted  him  up  into  the 
top  bough  of  the  elm  again. 

Canon  Rook  had  already  got  out  the  flying 
certificate,  and  was  signing  his  name  to  it,  and 
when  he  had  signed  it  he  flapped  his  wings  over 
it  till  the  ink  was  dry. 

"David  Blaize,"  he  said.  "I  have  the  pleasure 
of  presenting  you  with  a  first-class  bird-flying 
certificate.     The  meeting  is  adjourned." 

"Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah,"  sang  all  the  com- 
mittee, and  they  rose  in  the  air  together,  with  the 
noise  as  of  a  gale  blowing.  "Good-bye,  David 
Blaize,  you  bird-boy.  Don't  forget  your  flying. 
Practise  every  day,  old  man!" 

"Caw — about  that  stick,"  said  Mrs.  Rook.  "I 
want  it  crossways,  and  crossways  I'll  have  it,  or 
I'll  knock  down  the  whole  thing!  Caw,  caw, 
cawl" 

[150] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


-4a*4 


THiS  BIRDS   CARRY  UP  DAVID    TO    GET  HIS  FLYING   CERTIFICATE 


David  saw  he  was  not  wanted  any  more;  be- 
sides he  belonged  to  them  now,  and  understood 
how  busy  they  were.    So  he  put  his  precious  cer- 
tificate in  his  pocket  and  flew  ofl",  like  a  swift, 
[151] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

without  moving  arms  or  legs  and  only  balancing 
and  turning  in  the  air.  You  just  had  to  move 
your  head  first,  and  a\l  the  rest  followed.  You 
thought  what  you  wanted  to  do,  and  you  were 
doing  it.  .   .  . 

He  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  the  air,  and  then, 
as  his  arms  were  getting  a  little  stiff  with  the 
new  sort  of  exercise,  and  he  was  thirsty,  he 
swooped  down  to  the  edge  of  the  lake  to  get  a 
drink  and  have  a  rest.'  As  he  touched  ground  a 
moorhen  came  out  from  under  the  bank,  in  an 
awful  fright  at  a  boy  being  there  whom  he  hadn't 
seen  coming.  But  then  he  opened  his  red  mouth, 
laughed,  and  came  splashing  and  flying  back 
again. 

"It's  only  the  new  bird-boy,  my  dear,"  he  said 
to  his  wife.  "I  didn't  recognise  him  at  first. 
Tired  of  flying,  David?" 

David  laughed. 

"Only  just  for  the  minute,"  he  said.  "Oh,  I'm 
having  the  nicest  time  I  ever  had  since  I  came 
through  the  blue  door.    I  am  so  thirsty,  too!" 

He  lay  down  on  the  bank,  with  his  head  over 
the  edge,  and  was  scarcely  surprised  to  find  that 
[152] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

the  lake  tasted  like  the  most  delicious  lemonade 
with  ice  and  plenty  of  sugar.  Then  he  lay  back 
in  the  long  grass,  and  listened  to  the  birds  talk- 
ing, and  the  sap  humming  in  tlie  growing  herbs. 
Just  in  front  of  him  was  the  lake,  and  beyond 
that  the  garden  of  his  own  home  and  the  house. 
But  he  was  no  longer  afraid  that  he  was  back  in 
the  ordinary  world  again,  though  he  was  in  the 
ordinary  places.  He  had  gone  through  the  blue 
door,  and  his  eyes  and  ears  were  opened  to  thou- 
sands of  things  he  had  never  seen  before  in  those 
familiar  places.  All  the  colours  were  infinitely 
brighter  than  they  had  ever  been,  and  there  were 
new  sounds  in  the  air,  and  new  scents. 

It  was  puzzling  to  know  what  time  of  the  year 
it  was  (not  that  it  mattered) .  Birds  were  build- 
ing, so  it  should  be  spring,  and  yet  the  sun  was 
as  hot  as  any  summer  sun  he  had  ever  known,  and 
some  of  the  trees  had  turned  red,  as  happened 
in  the  autumn,  and  the  steep  hill  beyond  the 
house  was  covered  with  dazzling  white  snow,  so 
that  he  could  toboggan  if  he  liked.  It  seemed  as 
if  all  the  nicest  things  of  all  the  seasons  were 
gathered  together  into  this  one  morning,  and  he 
[153] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

wanted  to  look  at  them  all,  and  explore  the 
places  he  knew  so  well,  which  looked  so  much 
more  lovely  than  he  had  ever  known  them.  So 
presently,  when  he  had  rested,  he  flew  across  the 
lake  in  the  manner  of  the  moorhen,  with  his  feet 
dabbling  in  the  water,  and  landed  on  the  lawn  at 
the  other  side. 

The  flower-beds  were  absolutely  covered  with 
blossoms;  not  a  trace  of  the  dull  brown  earth 
was  to  be  seen.  Then  a  breeze  came  up  from 
the  lake,  and  set  the  flowers  swinging  on  their 
stalks.  But  they  did  not  swing  quite  in  the  or- 
dinary way,  for  the  stalks  stopped  still,  and  only 
the  flowers  themselves  swung.  Farther  and  far- 
ther they  swung,  this  way  and  that,  and  then  the 
sound  of  bells  began  to  come  out  of  them.  The 
Canterbury  bells  and  the  campanulas  began,  be- 
cause they  were  professional  bells,  but  by  degrees 
everything  else  joined  in,  lilies  and  roses  and  hol- 
lyhocks and  lupins,  and  love-lies-a-bleeding,  and 
every  other  flower  that  you  can  imagine,  for  they 
were  all  in  blossom  together  this  morning.  Little 
tiny  chimes,  like  the  note  of  musical  boxes,  came 
from  the  violets,  so  soft  that  David  had  to  put 
[154] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

his  ear  among  their  leaves  to  hear  them,  and  the 
loudest  notes  of  all  seemed  to  come  from  the 
sunflowers,  but  they  were  more  like  the  clashing 
of  big  golden  cymbals. 

David  listened  a  long  time  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy 
of  pleasure,  and  then  this  pealing  got  somehow 
into  his  bones,  and  he  had  to  do  something  joy- 
ful too.  But  as  he  could  not  make  a  bell  of  him- 
self, he  must  throw  himself  into  the  air,  and  poise 
like  a  hawk  hovering,  flapping  his  arms  all  the 
time,  and  stopping  in  the  same  place,  and  then  he 
skimmed  away  with  arms  quite  still  and  stretched 
taut,  and  flew  over  the  roof  of  his  house  so  close 
that  the  tips  of  his  fingers  touched  one  of  the 
chimney-stacks.  Then  for  a  long  while  he  made 
an  eagle-flight,  going  in  wide  circles,  without 
moving  his  arms,  and  mounting  higher  and  high- 
er till  the  earth  grew  small  and  dim  below  him, 
and  the  sound  of  the  bell-flowers  died  away,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  that  existed  in  this 
great  blue  desert  of  air.  Of  all  his  adventures 
since  he  came  through  the  blue  door,  this  was  the 
most  delightful. 

The  sun  had  got  low  when  he  descended  to 
[155] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

earth  again,  and  the  flowers  had  ceased  ringing 
in  the  garden-heds.  Birds  were  still  moving  in 
the  bushes,  but  none  was  flying  now,  for  it  was 
getting  quite  dark,  and  David  felt  that  both  the 
desire  and  the  power  of  flying  were  leaving  him, 
as  was  only  natural  when  night  came  on.  Once 
or  twice  he  ran  and  jumped  off  the  ground,  but 
he  could  no  longer  tread  the  air  properly :  it  was 
as  if  his  feet  broke  through  it.  Or  when  he  tried 
to  mount  slowly,  like  the  lark,  just  dabbling  the 
air  down  with  his  hands,  his  hands  went  through 
it  instead  of  pressing  it  below  him.  But  he  was 
sure  that  he  remembered  the  way  to  do  it  still, 
though  it  didn't  seem  quite  as  easj^  as  it  had  this 
morning.  However,  if  he  was  a  bird-boy,  he  had 
to  fly  at  bird-times,  and  not  at  night,  and  after 
falling  rather  heavily  on  the  gravel-path,  when 
he  tried  to  do  the  swift-trick,  he  thought  it  better 
to  give  it  up  till  morning. 

He  was  not  in  the  least  sleepy,  and  he  was 
sure  that  there  were  plenty  of  other  adventures 
awaiting  him.  The  only  question  was  in  which 
direction  he  should  go  to  look  for  them.  But  his 
flying  had  made  him  thirsty  again,  and  as  the 
[156] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

lake  was  so  close  it  was  worth  while  going  down 
to  it,  to  have  another  drink  of  that  delicious  lem- 
onade before  it  got  absolutely  dark.  So  again  he 
lay  down  on  the  bank,  and  was  just  going  to 
drink,  when  he  heard  a  tramp  of  feet,  and,  look- 
ing round,  saw  that  the  long  gravel  walk  just  be- 
hind him  was  entirely  lined  with  soldiers ;  at  least 
they  were  standing  in  two  lines  like  soldiers,  and 
they  looked  as  if  they  had  been  put  there  on  pur- 
pose, as  soldiers  do,  not  like  a  queue  of  people 
taking  tickets,  who  look  as  if  they  had  come  there 
by  accident.  Then  again  in  front  of  them,  at 
the  end  of  the  line,  was  standing  a  very  stout 
man  in  khaki,  with  a  lot  of  ribands  across  him, 
so  that  if  he  was  not  a  Brigadier-General,  he 
certainly  ought  to  have  been  one.  Furthermore, 
on  the  lawn  behind  them  were  rows  and  rows  of 
tents  and  a  band  was  playing. 

So  David  came  to  the  conclusion  that  these 
were  soldiers,  and  that  he  himself  must  be  some- 
thing, but  he  didn't  at  present  know  what  it  was. 
It  began  to  get  clearer  in  a  minute. 

The  Brigadier-General  saluted,  and  came 
down  the  bank  towards  David,  who  got  up  at 
[157] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

once,  and  tried  to  forget  he  was  thirsty.  It  was 
evident  that  something  was  going  to  happen 
without  his  having  to  go  in  search  of  it.  Half- 
way down  the  bank,  the  Brigadier-General  sud- 
denly tripped  over  his  own  spurs,  which  were  on 
the  toes  of  his  boots,  and  began  rolling  down  into 
the  lake.  He  fell  into  it  with  a  loud  splash,  and 
all  the  soldiers  behind  began  laughing. 

"Silence  in  the  ranks!"  said  David  very  grand- 
ly, turning  round,  for  he  knew  that  he  must  be 
somebody  tremendous  to  have  a  Brigadier-Gen- 
eral salute  him. 

There  was  a  loud  coughing  sound  from  the 
lake,  and  a  water-logged  voice  spluttered  out: 

"If  your  Grace  would  have  the  kindness  to  ex- 
tend to  me  the  tip  of  your  Field-Marshal's  baton, 
I  should  easily  be  able  to  get  to  land  without  the 
least  risk  of  pulling  your  Grace  in." 

That  shed  a  fresh  light  on  the  situation,  for 
David  now  knew  that  he  was  either  a  duke  or  an 
archbishop,  and  was  also  a  field-marshal.  He 
couldn't  think  of  any  archbishops  who  were  field- 
marshals,  but  the  names  of  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
[158] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

borough  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  instantly 
occurred  to  him  as  fitting  the  situation. 

"I  suppose  I  must  be  one  of  them,"  thought 
David,  "unless  I'm  just  Field-Marshal  the  Duke 
of  Blaize,  and  if  I  was  I  should  surely  have 
known  it  before.  But  let  me  get  my  poor  Briga- 
dier-General out  first." 

He  found  that  he  had  under  his  arm  a  long 
pole  like  a  fishing-rod,  which  was  almost  certain- 
ly his  baton,  and  so  he  tied  his  handkerchief  to 
the  end  of  it,  and  began  fishing  for  the  Brigadier- 
General.  It  had  got  quite  dark  by  now,  and  he 
could  only  just  see  a  line  of  foam  where  the 
Brigadier- General  was  splashing  about.  Then 
there  came  a  tug  at  his  handkerchief,  which  bent 
his  baton  nearly  double. 

"Oh,  I  got  a  bite  then,"  said  David  excitedly. 

"So  did  I,  your  Grace,"  said  the  Brigadier- 
General.  "The  fishes  are  biting  my  toes  some- 
thing awful.  But  there  are  spurs  on  them,  and 
I  think  I've  caught  a  pike." 

David  fished  again  with  renewed  vigour,  for 
now  there  was  a  chance  of  catching  a  brigadier- 
11591 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

general  and  a  pike  all  at  one  go,  which  was  very 
sumptuous  fishing. 

"Look  here,"  he  called  out,  "if  I  catch  you,  and 
you've  caught  a  pike,  it's  me  who's  caught  the 
pike,  isn't  it?" 

"That'll  be  settled  by  court-martial,  your 
Grace,"  said  the  voice  from  the  darkness.  "Do 
put  your  baton  a  little  lower." 

David  felt  very  much  inclined  to  say  that  he 
wouldn't  go  on  fishing  for  him  at  all,  unless  he 
(the  Brigadier-General)  promised  that  he  (Da- 
vid) should  be  considered  to  have  caught  not  only 
him  (the  Brigadier-General),  but  also  that  he 
(David)  should  be  allowed  to  claim  the  capture 
of  the  pike  which  he  (the  Brigadier-General) 
said  that  he  (the  Brigadier-General)  had  caught. 
But  it  was  so  difficult  to  express  all  this  in  terse 
soldierly  language,  that  he  decided  to  catch  the 
Brigadier-General  first,  and  settle  the  rest  of  it 
afterwards.  Besides,  if  the  Brigadier-General 
sank,  David  would  have  caught  neither,  and 
could  very  likely  be  court-martialled  himself. 

So  he  lowered  the  point  of  his  baton,  and  soon 
got  a  better  bite,  and  began  towing  him  to  land. 
[160] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Shall  I  gaff  him,  your  Grace,"  asked  another 
officer,  saluting  David  with  both  hands  at  once. 

"No,  I'm  going  to  catch  him  all  by  myself," 
said  David,  remembering  how  the  footman  had 
helped  him  to  catch  a  pike  once,  and  how  it  hadn't 
been  at  all  the  same  thing  as  having  caught  it  un- 
assisted.    "Get  back  into  barracks  at  once." 

David  brought  his  Brigadier- General  along- 
side, and  caught  hold  of  something  slippery 
which  wriggled. 

"That's  the  pike,"  said  a  choking  voice  from 
the  other  end  of  the  Brigadier-General.  "Lend 
a  hand,  your  Grace,  to  a  drowning  soldier." 

David  kept  tight  hold  of  the  pike  with  one 
hand,  put  his  baton  over  his  shoulder,  and  began 
walking  up  the  bank.  The  Brigadier-General 
came  up  out  of  the  water  with  a  loud  pop,  just 
as  if  a  cork  had  been  drawn. 

"That's  the  ginger-beer,  your  Grace,"  he  said. 

"Is  it?  It  was  lemonade  this  morning,"  said 
David.  "This  is  an  awfully  strong  pike.  Turn 
up  the  light  somebody." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  a  discontented 
voice  from  the  ranks.  "But  where  is  the  bloom- 
[1611 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

ing  light?  This  is  the  darkest  guard  of  honour 
I  ever  honoured." 

''There's  a  door  in  the  ground,"  said  David, 
being  jumped  about  by  the  pike.  "It's  either 
water  or  light,  but  I  can't  remember  which." 

"I've  had  enough  water  for  the  present,"  said 
the  Brigadier-General,  shaking  himself  like  a 
dog.  He  began  with  his  head,  and  shook  all 
down  his  body,  and  finished  up  with  his  sword. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  conversation  going 
on  in  the  ranks,  and  David  determined  to  show 
himself  an  iron  disciplinarian  when  the  pike  had 
finished  bouncing  him  about.  He  kept  tripping 
up  in  his  sword,  and  his  cocked  hat,  which  he 
knew  he  had  on  his  head,  kept  coming  forward 
over  his  eyes,  and  rows  on  rows  of  medals  jingled 
on  his  breast.  The  pike,  of  which  he  was  resolved 
not  to  let  go,  had  dragged  him  away  into  the 
flower-bed,  and  every  now  and  then  a  bell  jingled 
from  the  sleeping  flowers. 

"Oh,  do  let  go,"  said  a  whisper  near  him.  "I'm 

not  a  pike  at  all.    How  can  you  be  so  silly?  I'm 

Miss  Muffet's  spider,  and  I  was  just  skating 

along  over  the  water,  when  that  stupid  spur 

[162] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  RESCUKS  TH£  BRIGADIER-GENERAL 


caught  me.    I'm  keeping  her  waiting,  and  I  hate 
keeping  a  lady  waiting." 

David  let  go  at  once,  and  he  heard  the  spider 
[163] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

canter  away.  At  the  same  moment  a  stream  of 
light  shot  up  from  the  door  in  the  ground,  and 
putting  his  cocked-hat  straight,  he  marched  back 
to  the  guard  of  honour,  with  his  baton,  on  the  end 
of  which  fluttered  his  handkerchief,  over  his 
shoulder.  He  certainly  had  sailor-trousers  on, 
but  he  was  so  covered  with  medals  that  he  could 
not  see  what  sort  of  coat  he  was  wearing.  It  but- 
toned close  round  his  neck,  and  he  had  an  awful 
fear  that  it  was  the  coat  he  had  worn  when  Er- 
rand-boy to  the  Bank.  But  there  was  no  time 
to  attend  to  that  now,  for  his  guard  of  honour 
were  all  yawning  and  looking  bored,  and  his 
Brigadier-General  was  saluting,  propping  his  el- 
bow up  with  the  other  hand. 

"If  it  will  please  your  Grace  to  inspect  the 
guard  of  honour,"  he  said,  "we  can  get  to  work 
on  the  plan  of  campaign,  for  there  isn't  a  moment 
to  waste!" 

"Attention!"  said  David. 

The  Brigadier-General  poked  him  in  the  side. 

"They  are  at  attention,"  he  whispered. 

"I  must  have  much  more  attention  than  that," 
said  David,  beginning  his  inspection.  "What's 
[164] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

this  man  doing  with  a  toasting  fork  instead  of  a 
rifle,  for  instance?" 

"If  you  please,  your  Grace,  I  was  cooking 
sausages  for  your  Grace's  supper,  when  I  was 
ordered  out,  and  I  hadn't  time  to  put  down  my 
toasting  fork  nor  nothing.  It's  cruel  hard  if  a 
poor  soldier " 

"Silence  in  the  ranks!"  said  David. 

The  next  one  had  got  a  croquet-mallet  on  his 
shoulder,  the  next  a  golf-club,  and  on  the  shoul- 
der of  the  next  was  sitting  a  grey  parrot,  who 
pretended  to  sneeze  loudly  as  David  passed.  The 
next  had  an  umbrella,  the  next  a  pair  of  tongs; 
then  came  a  judge  in  a  wig,  and  a  newspaper 
man  who  had  folded  a  copy  of  the  Tiines  into  a 
sort  of  lance.  Altogether  they  were  the  oddest 
kind  of  guard  of  honour  that  David  could  im- 
agine, and  reminded  him  of  some  new  sort  of 
happy  families.  But  then  they  might  all  fbe 
thinking  that  he  was  an  equally  curious  sort  of 
Field-Marshal,  and  so  it  was  best,  for  the  pres- 
ent, to  pretend  that  everything  was  in  order. 

He  came  to  the  end  of  this  very  extraordinary 
line,  and  didn't  know  what  to  do  next.  But  his 
[165] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

Brigadier-General  whispered  to  him,  "Say  some- 
thing nice,  your  Grace,  and  dismiss  them.  They 
know  what  to  do." 

"It's  all  extremely  nice,"  said  David  in  a  loud 
firm  voice,  "and  I  congratulate  you  on  your  fit 
and  soldierly  appearance.  You  are  all  dismissed. 
Good-night." 

The  Brigadier- General  gave  a  little  sob. 

"They  will  all  remember  your  Grace's  beauti- 
ful words  till  their  dying  day,"  he  said,  as  the 
men  fell  out.  "I  dare  say  they  won't  have  long 
to  wait  for  that,"  he  added. 

"Oh,  do  you  expect  a  battle  soon?"  asked  Da- 
vid. 

"Your  Grace  shall  see  the  maps  that  show  the 
movement  of  the  enemy  for  yourself,"  said  the 
Brigadier-General. 

All  the  time  they  were  threading  their  way 
through  the  tents  on  the  lawn,  and  tripping  over 
ropes  and  stepping  into  saucepans,  and  hitting 
their  toes  against  shells,  for  the  light  from  the 
door  in  the  ground  had  gone  out,  and  it  was  im- 
possible to  see  what  there  was,  or  where  you 
were  going.  The  Brigadier-General's  spurs  got 
[166] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

constantly  caught  in  tent-ropes:  when  this  hap- 
pened he  cut  the  rope  with  his  sword,  and  the 
tent  fell  down  flat.     David  thought  this  was 


FIELD-MARSHAL   DAVID   INSPECTS   HIS   GUARD   OF   HONOUR 

rather  a  high-handed  and  hasty  proceeding,  but 
he  daren't  say  much  for  fear  of  betraying  some 
desperate  ignorance,  for  it  might  be  the  privilege 
of  Brigadier- Generals  to  cut  any  ropes  they 
pleased. 

Presently  they  came  to  a  large  square  tent  bril- 
[167] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

liantly  lit  inside,  so  that  David  could  read  the 
notice-board  outside  it,  which  said: 

"Head  and  tail  quarters  of  his  Grace,"  so  he 
knew  that  this  was  his,  and  entered. 

The  tent  smelled  strongly  of  sausages,  and  no 
wonder,  for  one  of  the  two  tables  was  covered 
with  them.  The  other  was  covered  with  maps. 
The  rest  of  the  furniture  consisted  of  a  small 
camp-bed,  and  a  dressing-table,  on  which  swords 
and  tooth-brushes  and  medals  and  soap  and  boot- 
laces and  cocked  hats  were  lying  about  in  the  ut- 
most confusion.  A  fire  was  burning  brightly 
against  the  wall  of  the  tent,  which  looked  rather 
dangerous  to  David.  It  had  already  burned  a 
hole  right  through  the  canvas  behind  it. 

"I  think  that  fire  had  better  be  put  out,"  he 
said  to  the  Brigadier-General;  "it  can't  be  very 
safe." 

The  Brigadier-General  blew  at  it  as  you  would 
blow  at  a  candle,  and  it  went  out  instantly. 

"And  now  we'll  study  the  movements  of  the 
enemy,"  said  David,  going  to  the  map  table. 

He  took  up  the  first  map  that  lay  there,  and 
found  it  all  very  clear,  for  it  represented  on  a 
[168] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

large  scale  the  house  and  garden  and  lake  and 
the  village.  There  was  a  direction  at  the  top 
stating,  "Route  of  the  Enemy  marked  in  red," 
and  David  began  to  follow  it. 

It  started  from  his  house,  which  was  odd, 
since  he  had  never  seen  any  trace  of  any  enemy 
there,  and  went  down  the  nursery  passage  till  it 
came  to  a  square  marked  "Game  cupboard,  alias 
Miss  MufFet's."  Then  there  was  a  gap  and  a 
note  printed,  "Enemy  movements  hard  to  trace 
here.  Possibly  he  flew."  And  the  red  line  began 
again  in  the  village  street  close  to  the  Bank.  It 
went  into  the  Bank  and  out  again,  crossed  the 
road  into  the  shoemaker's  and  then  went  down 
the  village  street  to  the  bridge.  From  there  it 
returned  to  the  Bank  again.  .  .  . 

A  terrible  idea  entered  David's  head.  This 
was  precisely  the  route  he  had  taken  himself  after 
going  through  the  blue  door.  He  felt  himself 
turn  pale,  and  bent  over  the  map  again  to  make 
certain. 

From  the  Bank  the  enemy  had  gone  to  the 
house  next  door,  which  was  labelled  "Happy 
Families'  Institute,  alias  Miss  Milligan's  School 
[169] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

for  young  ladies,  alias  Station.  Here  enemy 
entrained."  From  there  his  route  passed  through 
a  field  or  two,  and  came  to  the  hairdresser's, 
which  was  labelled  "Hairdresser's  Junction." 
After  that  it  came  to  an  end  with  the  note,  "En- 
emy seen  flying  here  at  8.34  a.m." 

David  had  no  longer  the  slightest  doubt  that 
he  was  the  enemy,  and  was  now  completely  cut 
off  in  the  middle  of  the  camp  of  his  foes.  But 
then  it  puzzled  him  to  know  why  they  had  made 
him  their  own  Field-Marshal.  Perhaps  they 
didn't  know  he  was  the  enemy,  or  perhaps  they 
had  made  him  their  Field-Marshal  in  order  to 
lure  him  into  this  tent  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
camp.  That  seemed  far  the  most  likely  explana- 
tion, and  accounted  for  the  guard  of  honour  being 
so  weird  a  collection  of  people.  They  were  mock- 
ing him,  or  perhaps  just  putting  him  to  the  test, 
and  seeing  whether  he  knew  anything  whatever 
about  soldiers.  It  must  have  ben  quite  clear  to 
them  that  he  did  not,  and  he  could  have  kicked 
himself  to  think  that  he  had  gone  wrestling  with 
Miss  Muffet's  spider  in  the  garden-bed  when  he 
ought  to  have  been  inspecting.  He  had  thought 
[170] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

it  wonderfully  grand  to  fly  all  day,  and  be  a 
Field-Marshal  as  soon  as  it  got  dark,  but  now  it 
seemed  that  there  were  penalties  attached  to 
greatness.  Never  had  he  or  any  other  Field- 
Marshal  been  in  so  precarious  a  position. 

He  clearly  had  to  escape,  and  to  escape  he 
had  to  be  alone.    He  folded  up  the  map. 

"I  have  studied  that  thoroughly,"  he  said,  "and 
I  want  to  be  called  at  half -past  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  will  arrange  the  battle  as  soon  as  I  have 
breakfasted." 

The  Brigadier- General  meantime  had  been 
eating  sausages  as  hard  as  he  could.  He  rapidly 
swallowed  all  that  was  in  his  mouth. 

"Very  good,  your  Grace,"  he  said.  "I  will 
have  the  barbed  wire  put  up  round  your  Grace's 
headquarters." 

David  reflected  rapidly.  It  was  far  more  like- 
ly that  the  barbed  wire  was  intended  to  keep 
him  in,  rather  than  keep  other  people  out.  Of 
course  he  could  get  away  by  flying — at  least  he 
could  have  this  morning,  but  he  didn't  feel  quite 
so  certain  about  it  now.  Still  it  would  never  do 
to  let  the  Brigadier-General  think  he  suspected 
[171] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

anything,  though  he  wished  he  had  let  the  Briga- 
dier-General drown. 

"Make  all  the  usual  arrangements,"  he  said. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  David  sat  down  to 
think.  He  felt  his  heart  heating  very  quickly, 
but  the  whole  thing  was  so  exciting  that  it  could 
not  be  called  really  beastly. 

"The  plan  is,"  said  he  to  himself,  "to  make 
them  believe  I've  gone  to  bed  and  don't  know 
that  they  know  that  I'm  the  enemy.  I  must  go 
to  bed  without  going  to  bed." 

That  was  not  so  hard  to  manage.  He  took  off 
his  Field-Marshal's  tunic  with  all  its  medals,  and 
found,  to  his  great  relief,  that  he  had  his  sailor 
clothes  on  below.  So  he  stuffed  a  pillow  into  the 
tunic  and  buttoned  it  all  the  way  down,  and  put 
it  in  his  bed.  Then  he  turned  a  sponge  bag  inside 
out  so  that  it  had  the  grey  side  outermost,  put 
the  sponge  back  in  it,  and  laid  it  at  the  neck  of  the 
tunic  with  the  Field-Marshal's  cocked  hat  on 
the  top.  He  could  not  spare  his  trousers  for 
legs,  so  he  rolled  up  two  maps  and  placed  them 
in  the  bed  below  the  tunic,  and  covered  the  figure 
up  to  the  waist  with  the  bedclothes. 
[172] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

Anyhow,  there  was  the  Field-Marshal  in  bed 
in  his  clothes,  ready  to  spring  up  at  the  call  of 
duty. 

"That'll  convince  them  if  they  look  in  that 
I've  gone  to  bed,"  said  he,  "only  it  won't  con- 
vince them  so  much  if  they  see  me  as  well.  It's 
quite  certain  I  must  hide  until  I  go  away." 

He  crept  under  the  map -table,  which  had  a 
cloth  on  it  nearly  coming  to  the  ground,  and 
thought  of  another  thing  to  make  them  believe 
he  was  unsuspicious  and  asleep. 

"I'll  snore,"  thought  David,  remembering  how 
the  crow  had  snored.  "Haw,  caw,  haw.  Rumph, 
humph,  haw!    Haw  haw-w-w-w-w.     Rumph!" 

He  had  hardly  stopped  when  he  heard  whis- 
pering outside  the  tent. 

"Yes,  I  peeped  in,"  said  one  voice,  "and  there 
he  was  a-lying  in  his  bed,  an'  you  don't  need  to 
peep  in  to  know  he's  lying  there  still,  sleeping 
the  last  sleep  he'll  ever  sleep  on  earth." 

"And  the  barbed  wire's  in  place?"  asked*  an- 
other voice. 

"Yes.    He  couldn't  get  through  if  he  was  fifty 
Field-Marshals,  and  he  isn't  one," 
[173] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Who  is  he  then?"  asked  the  first  voice. 

"Why,  he's  that  little  whippersnapper  as  takes 
us  out  of  our  box  and  puts  us  back  again,  without 
a  "with  your  leave,"  or  "by  your  leave,"  nor  any- 
thing. We'll  put  him  in  a  box  to-morrow,  tight 
screwed  down  too." 

"Just  like  his  impidence  to  think  himself  a 
Field-Marshal,"  said  the  second.  "Are  we  going 
to  hang  him  first  and  shoot  him  next  and  behead 
him  last,  or  t'other  way  about?" 

"Makes  no  odds,"  said  the  second.  "Eight 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning  then,  mate.  Turn  off 
the  light  in  his  tent,  will  you?" 

David,  under  his  table,  shook  with  rage. 

"The  beastly  fellows,"  he  whispered.  "And 
I've  treated  them  very  kindly  too.  See  if  I  don't 
melt  them  all  down  over  the  nursery  fire !" 

That  was  all  very  well,  but  it  was  still  possible 
that  he  would  be  hung,  shot,  beheaded  and  buried 
first,  and  that  was  the  business  he  had  to  attend 
to  now.  He  was  not  anywhere  near  being  able  to 
get  to  the  nursery  fire,  and  in  the  meantime  he 
was  in  a  tent  in  the  middle  of  the  hostile  camp, 
with  any  amount  of  barbed  wire  round  him,  and 
[1741 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

nothing  to  cut  it  with  except  a  baton  and  some 
sausages. 

"Oh,  it's  a  horrid  position,"  thought  David 
very  seriously,  "but  I  must  say  it's  exciting." 

When  the  whispers  had  died  away  he  went 
very  cautiously  to  the  door-flap  and  peeped  out. 
The  moon  had  risen,  and  by  its  light  he  could 
gee  lumps  and  chunks  of  barbed  wire  piled  up 
high  right  across  the  entrance,  like  a  thicket  of 
blackberry  bushes  without  any  leaves  on.  There 
was  no  possibility  of  getting  out  that  way,  and 
he  walked  round  his  tent,  pressing  quietly  with 
his  finger  against  the  canvas,  and  always  getting 
pricked  by  the  barbed  wire  which  evidently  had 
been  heaped  up  all  round  him.  Then  he  came  to 
the  fireplace,  where  the  fire  had  burned  a  hole  in 
the  canvas,  before  the  Brigadier-General  blew  it 
out,  and,  looking  cautiously  out,  he  saw  that  there 
was  a  gap  here  between  the  hedges  of  barbed 
wire,  for  it  had  never  occurred  to  anybody  that 
he  should  get  out  right  through  the  middle  of 
the  fire. 

"That's  the  only  chance,"  thought  David,  his 
eyes  sparkling  with  excitement. 
[1T5] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

He  made  a  quantity  of  awful  snore-noises 
again  after  that,  and  then  very  cautiously  put  his 
leg  through  the  hole  that  the  fire  had  burned  in 
the  canvas.  Nobody  interfered  with  it,  and  so 
he  put  the  other  leg  through  too,  and  presently 
stood  outside  his  tent  in  a  narrow  alley  between 
other  tents.  David  had  often  sent  himself  to 
sleep  by  imagining  himself  escaping  from  posi- 
tions of  horrible  danger,  but  now  that  it  was 
necessary  to  escape  without  imagining  anything, 
he  felt  extremely  wide-awake.  Probably  there 
would  be  sentries  guarding  the  camp,  past  whom 
he  must  somehow  slip,  but  here  in  the  camp  itself 
there  was  no  sign  of  life.  Once  or  twice  he  ran  a 
few  steps  in  the  hope  that  he  might  remember 
how  to  fly,  but  he  had  no  longer  any  idea  now, 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  how  to  tread  air,  or 
paddle  with  his  hands,  and  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  must  escape  on  his  two  feet.  The  ground 
was  encumbered  with  tent-ropes,  and  the  guard 
of  honour  appeared  to  have  dropped  all  their  ac- 
coutrements about,  for  golf-clubs  and  toasting 
forks  and  other  irregular  weapons  lay  around 
among  trench  mortars  and  machine-guns  and  the 
[176] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

more  usual  apparatus  of  battle.  Then  he  came 
across  the  grey  parrot,  who  looked  at  him  with 
suspicion,  and  inmiediately  began  walking  away 
with  its  toes  crossed,  sneezing  continuously. 
David  went  on  more  quickly  and  cautiously  after 
that:  it  was  more  than  possible  that  this  horrid 
bird  was  spying  on  him.  He  never  had  consid- 
ered parrots  to  be  real  birds,  else  they  would  not 
for  ever  be  trying  to  make  themselves  sound  like 
cats  and  dogs  and  Mabel  the  kitchenmaid. 

He  had  come  close  to  the  gravel  path  by  the 
lake  where  he  had  held  his  foolish  inspection  of 
the  guard  of  honour,  and  where  the  camp  ended, 
without  seeing  anybody,  when  suddenly  he  came 
upon  a  large  letter,  propped  up  against  a  rope 
and  addressed  to  him.  He  knew  quite  well  that 
this  might  be  some  trap,  and  that  it  might  ex- 
plode in  his  face  when  he  opened  it,  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  might  be  some  valuable  communi- 
cation from  the  birds.  So  he  bent  down  to  pick 
it  up,  but  hardly  had  he  touched  it  when  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  electric  bells  and  gongs 
and  watchmen's  rattles  went  off  all  over  the 
camp,  and  out  of  every  tent  there  came  the  noise 
[177] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

of  people  getting  up  and  washing  their  faces, 
and  brushing  their  teeth. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose,  and  without 
any  attempt  at  concealing  himself  any  more,  he 
rushed  across  the  gravel  path,  dodged  a  sentry, 
and  ran  down  the  bank  to  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
Since  his  Brigadier-General  had  fallen  into  the 
water  (indeed,  probably,  in  consequence  of  that) , 
the  fishes  had  put  up  their  glass  roof,  and  all  over 
the  lake  below  he  saw  the  glimmer  of  their  fires 
of  red  leaves. 

"Oh,  let  me  in,"  he  shouted,  feeling  like  the 
pin-partridge  on  the  ark.  "My  awful  soldiers 
are  going  to  hang  and  behead  me." 

Already  the  sentries  were  close  upon  him, 
when  a  trap-door  opened  in  the  roof,  and  David 
jumped  down  into  it.  He  heard  it  clang  to  he^ 
hind  him,  and  knew  he  was  safe. 


ri78] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  VII 

It  was  neither  cold  nor  wet  below  the  glass  roof 
of  the  lake,  for,  as  David  already  knew,  when  you 
are  completely  in  the  water,  from  your  head  to 
your  heels,  you  never  think  of  saying  "Oh,  how 
wet  it  is!"  and  it  is  only  when  a  piece  of  you  is 
wet,  like  when  you  are  washing  your  hands,  or  a 
snowball  goes  down  our  neck,  that  you  think  of 
wetness.  Certainly  also  it  was  not  cold,  because 
there  were  so  many  red-leaf  fires  burning.  Up 
overhead  the  moon  shone  very  brightly  through 
what  David  knew  was  ice  to  the  ordinary  world, 
but  which  it  was  much  more  correct  to  call  fish- 
glass,  and  it  made  the  most  lovely  lights  in  it, 
just  as  if  all  the  diamond  tiaras  and  emerald  and 
ruby  necklaces  had  been  mashed  up  in  the  fish- 
glass. 

^'That's  something  to  know,"  he  said  to  him- 
[179] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

self.  "When  there's  fish-glass  on  the  lake,  I 
shall  make  a  hole  in  it  and  get  underneath.  What 
nonsense  grown-up  people  talk!  They  all  say 
it's  dangerous  to  get  under  the  ice — fish-glass, 
but  it  was  the  only  safe  thing  to  do.  I  suppose 
I'd  better  call  on  some  fish  and  thank  them  for 
rescuing  me." 

He  began  walking  towards  one  of  the  red  fires 
round  which  there  were  a  lot  of  fish  collected,  but 
they  all  looked  so  very  uninterested  and  solemn 
("just  as  if  they  were  hearing  a  sermon  in  church 
and  not  attending,"  thought  David),  that  he 
decided  that  he  would  explore  a  little  first,  and 
turned  quickly  off  in  another  direction.  At  once 
he  felt  he  was  not  walking  any  more,  for  his  feet 
had  come  off  the  ground,  and  he  was  lying  flat 
a  few  feet  from  the  floor.  This  sensation  was 
rather  like  losing  your  balance,  and  he  made  a 
sort  of  wriggle  with  his  feet  in  order  to  recover 
it  again.  But  instead  of  recovering  his  footing, 
he  merely  darted  off  at  a  great  speed  in  a  per- 
fectly unexpected  direction. 

"Why,  it's  a  sort  of  mad  flying  in  the  water," 
[180] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

he  said  to  himself.  "0-oh,  I  see,  it's  swimming 
fish-fashion." 

This  was  a  great  discovery;  he  flicked  his  feet 
again,  and  plunged  into  a  great  thicket  of  water- 
trees  that  waved  and  swayed  round  him.  Once 
more  he  kicked,  but  instead  of  darting  forward 
again,  he  came  to  a  dead  stop,  though  he  couldn't 
understand  how  he  had  kicked  differently  from 
before.  Another  kick  made  him  spin  round,  and 
once  again  he  kicked  as  he  had  kicked  the  first 
time,  and  flew  out  into  the  open. 

"Take  care  where  you're  going,"  said  a  thick, 
bored  voice  near  him,  and,  turning  round  very 
cautiously  lest  he  should  fly  off  again,  he  saw  an 
old  brown  trout,  not  looking  at  him  exactly,  but 
not  looking  anywhere  else.  One  eye — the  only 
one  that  David  could  see,  in  fact — seemed  to  Be 
turned  towards  him  rather  than  towards  anything 
else,  but  it  merely  stared  vacantly  at  him,  as  if 
it  was  painted  there. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  David,  "but  I  don't 
seem  to  go  where  I  want." 

The  trout  opened  and  shut  its  mouth  once  or 
twice  without  saying  anything,  and  then  it 
[181] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

slewed  round  and  turned  its  other  eye  upon  him. 
Then  it  turned  its  back  on  him  altogether,  and 
took  no  further  notice  of  him. 

This  was  rather  an  unpromising  beginning,  but 
David  was  so  eager  to  learn  how  to  swim  fish- 
fashion,  that  he  risked  being  snubbed. 

"Could  you  spare  me  the  time  just  to  show 
me  the  sort  of  way  it  goes?"  he  asked. 

"You  wave  yourself,"  said  the  trout,  "and  then 
you  go.  The  sooner  you  go,  the  better  I  shall 
be  pleased." 

David  waved  himself,  and  ran  into  the  trout's 

taa. 

"Don't  do  that,"  said  the  trout,  not  the  least 
angrily,  but  in  the  same  bored  manner.  "It's  bad 
manners  to  hit  anybody's  tail.  You're  a  very  ill- 
bred  sort  of  creature." 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  David.  "I  didn't  mean 
to  hit  you." 

"Then  you  did  it  without  meaning,"  said  the 
trout,  with  its  back  to  him,  "which  is  worse,  be- 
cause there's  no  sense  in  it,  if  it  doesn't  mean 
anything.  I  wish  you  would  go  away.  Right 
away,  I  mean :  none  of  your  hanging  about  here. 
[182] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

Get  some  low  coarse  fish  to  teach  you.  I'm  busy." 
David  felt  rather  discouraged.  He  didn't 
know  what  adventure  might  happen  next,  or  how 
soon  it  might  happen,  and  he  wanted  to  learn 
how  to  swim  fish-fashion  before  something  else 
took  place.  But  he  felt  he  could  not  face  any 
more  dull  eyes  just  yet,  which  looked  at  you  as 
if  you  didn't  mean  anything,  and  so  he  moved 
very  cautiously  away  from  this  stupid  old  thing, 
for  fear  of  butting  it  again,  and  began  practising 
by  himself.  He  found  it  was  not  so  difficult  as  it 
seemed  to  be  at  first  (which  is  the  case  with  most 
things).  The  great  point  was  to  make  up  your 
mind  first  where  you  wanted  to  go  to,  and  then 
look  at  the  place  and  wave  yourself,  and  he  found 
that  he  usually  went  in  that  sort  of  direction, 
just  as  if  there  was  something  inside  him  that 
knew  how  to  do  it  if  he  only  told  it  what  he 
wanted.  He  passed  a  fish  now  and  then,  which 
took  no  notice  whatever  of  him,  and  presently 
he  found  he  was  getting  on  so  well  that  he  wished 
to  show  off  to  somebody,  so  he  returned  in  the 
direction  of  the  trout  that  was  so  busy.  There 
it  was  precisely  as  David  had  left  it,  doing  noth- 
[183] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

ing  whatever  except  slowly  opening  and  shutting 
its  mouth,  and  staring  at  nothing  at  all.  So 
David  gave  a  tremendous  kick  in  order  to  dash 
up  to  it  in  a  real  fish-boy-like  manner,  and,  mis- 
calculating his  direction,  ran  violently  into  its 
nose. 

"Don't  go  on  doing  that,"  said  the  trout. 
"You  butt  me  here,  and  you  butt  me  there,  and 
you've  got  no  self-control.  It's  very  boring  of 
you.  Better  go  away.  You  needn't  bother  to 
come  back  any  more,  for  ever.  I  shan't  miss  you 
at  all.    I  only  wish  you  had  missed  me." 

"I  wish  I  had  too,"  said  David.  "But  I  was 
getting  on  so  nicely,  and  I  wanted  to  show  some- 
body." 

"And  you're  muddhng  everything  up,"  said 
the  trout.  "So  you'd  better  show  somebody  else, 
and  not  me.  I  don't  care  what  you  do,  or  where 
you  go,  so  long  as  you  don't  do  and  go  it  here." 

David  felt  annoyed  at  this. 

"Are  all  trout  as  rude  as  you?"  he  asked. 

The  trout  opened  its  mouth  two  or  three  times, 
and  each  time  David  thought  it  was  going  to 
speak. 

[184] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Yes,"  it  said  at  length.    "All." 

"I  should  think  you  must  get  rather  tired  of 
each  other's  company  then,"  said  David. 

Again  it  seemed  as  if  the  trout  was  going  to 
speak,  and  this  time  David  counted  that  it  opened 
and  shut  its  mouth  eleven  times  before  it  an- 
swered. 

*'We  are,"  it  said.  *'We're  each  of  us  tired  of 
everybody  else.  But  I'm  most  tired  of  you.  I 
hate  being  interrupted  when  I'm  busy,  and  I 
hate  people  running  into  my  face.  I  never  have 
liked  it,  and  I  don't  mean  to  begin  now." 

"Well,  I've  apologised  for  that,"  said  David. 
"I  can't  do  more." 

This  time  the  trout  opened  and  shut  its  mouth 
only  nine  times  before  it  answered. 

"Yes,  you  can,"  it  said.  "You  can  go  away. 
I  can't  think  why  you  don't." 

David  was  naturally  a  polite  boy,  but  when 
any  one  was  rude  to  him  he  could  easily  be  rude 
back.  He  forgot  all  about  his  swimming  fish- 
fashion. 

"I  don't  believe  you're  a  bit  busy,"  he  said. 
ri85] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"You  haven't  done  a  thing  since  I  was  here  be- 
fore.   You've  just  v^^aved  and  stared." 

The  trout  looked  at  David  with  one  eye,  then 
moved  his  head  and  looked  at  him  with  the  other. 

"That's  two  things  then,"  it  said. 

"Yes,  but  that  doesn't  make  you  busy,"  said 
David.  "You  couldn't  possibly  be  idler.  That 
doesn't  count." 

A  faint  gleam  of  intelligence  came  into  that 
foolish  face. 

"I  can  count,"  said  the  trout.  "One — two — 
four — three — nine  and  a  half — a  hundred. 
There!" 

"Your  quite  wrong,"  said  David.  "It  goes 
one — two — six — four.  Let  me  see  what  does 
come  after  four?"  he  added,  suddenly  forgetting 
how  to  count  himself. 

"Nothing:  that's  the  end,"  said  the  trout.  "You 
needn't  wait  any  longer.  We've  both  finished. 
You  may  get  down.  Never  mind  about  wiping 
your  mouth  or  anything." 

"One — two — six — fourteen,"  began  David 
again,  determined  to  get  it  right,  when  suddenly 
he  was  blown  all  sideways,  as  it  were,  by  a  tre- 
[180] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

mendous  draught  of  water,  and  the  trout's  tail 
whisked  by  his  face.  As  for  the  trout  itself,  that 
one  swish  of  its  tail  had  carried  it  ten  yards 
away,  and  it  was  drifting  back  again  with  an 


DAVID  AND  THE  TROUT 


enormous  worm  hanging  out  of  its  mouth.  Its 
cheeks  bulged  with  it,  and  its  eyes  stared  so  that 
David  thought  they  would  drop  out.  But  in  two 
or  three  gulps  it  managed  to  swallow  the  rest  of 
the  worm,  and  to  David's  great  surprise  it  looked 
almost  pleasant  and  winked  at  him. 
[187] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"There!"  it  said.  "Now  you  know  why  I  was 
so  busy.  I  shall  have  a  holiday  for  three  minutes 
until  I'm  hungry  again.  Who  are  you,  and  what 
are  you  doing  here,  without  being  drowned?  It's 
all  very  iiTegular." 

"I  was  a  Field-Marshal  last,"  began  David, 
rather  proudly. 

"What  a  stuj^id  thing  to  be!"  said  the  trout, 
"especially  as  there  aren't  any  fields  here.  And 
who  asked  you  to  come  to  my  lake?" 

"Nobody.     I  chose  to  come,"  said  David. 

"Well,  I  choose  next:  I  choose  that  you 
should  go  away.  I  believe  you  are  a  sort  of 
caddis-worm,  whom  nobody  likes." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  said  David.    "I'm  a  boy." 

"Then  you  can't  be  a  Field-Marshal.  That's 
one  to  me." 

"Are  we  playing  a  game?"  he  asked.  "Is  it  a 
sort  of  happy  families?" 

"No.  Two  to  me.  Go  away.  I've  got  to  be 
busy  again." 

"What  you  mean  by  being  busy,"  said  David, 
"is  that  you  want  to  eat  something." 

The  trout's  eye  began  to  get  glazed  and  vacant. 
[188] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Worms!"  it  said. 

*'I  believe  that's  all  you  ever  think  about,"  said 
David. 

The  stupid  mouth  began  opening  and  shutting, 
and  David  began  counting,  rather  relieved  to 
find  that  he  could  do  so  again.  The  seventh  time 
it  opened  the  trout  said: 

"No,  it  isn't." 

"What  else  do  you  think  about  then?"  asked 
David. 

"Worms,"  said  the  trout. 

"But  that's  the  same  thing,"  said  David. 

This  time  the  trout  opened  and  shut  its  mouth 
so  often  without  saying  anything  at  all  that 
David  felt  that  there  was  no  use  in  waiting  any 
longer  for  it  to  speak.  Even  when  it  did  speak, 
too,  it  was  almost  stupider  than  when  it  didn't, 
and  since  he  had  come  through  the  blue  door  he 
had  met  nobody  so  completely  uninteresting.  The 
groups  round  the  fires  looked  just  as  hopeless, 
and  he  felt  that  he  was  only  wasting  his  time. 
But  he  could  not  resist  saying  what  he  thought. 

"You're  much  the  stupidest  thing  I  ever  saw." 
he  said.    "I  shall  go  away." 
[189] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"That's  what  I  always  wanted  you  to  do,"  said 
the  trout.    *'And  mind  you  don't  come  back." 

David  wondered  whether  fish  might  not  be  a 
little  brighter  at  the  top  end  of  the  lake  where 
the  stream  flowed  into  it,  and  he  waved  his  way 
up  there.  But  even  swimming  fish-fashion  had 
ceased  to  amuse  him,  for  he  did  not  want  to  do 
anything  that  fishes  did. 

"If  I  learned  to  swun  like  them,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I  should  grow  like  them  perhaps,  and 
that  would  be  awful.  I  shall  get  out  of  the  water 
altogether  when  I  come  to  the  end  of  the  roof. 
They  never  put  it  up  over  the  stream." 

By  and  by  the  roof  got  thinner,  and  when  he 
came  into  the  stream,  he  found,  as  he  had  ex- 
pected, that  there  was  no  roof  at  all.  He  put  his 
head  up  very  cautiously  for  fear  he  was  not  far 
enough  away  from  the  camp,  and  that  he  might 
be  pursued  again,  but  found  that  a  mist  had  come 
up,  quite  covering  the  lawn,  though  bugles  were 
still  sounding  there,  and  he  felt  safe  in  landing  on 
the  far  side  of  the  stream,  underneath  the  shelter 
of  the  bridge.  The  moonlight  felt  very  warm  and 
comfortable  after  the  water,  and  the  moment  he 
.[190] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

stepped  on  to  land  he  was  quite  dry  again,  if 
he  had  ever  really  been  wet  at  all. 

He  had  hardly  taken  his  second  foot  out  of  the 
water  when  there  was  a  great  swirl  in  the  stream 
behind  him,  and  the  head  of  a  huge  wicked  pike 
snapped  at  his  heel. 

"You  little  wretch,"  it  said.  "How  dare  you 
come  into  my  lake?  If  I  had  only  known  about 
you  a  minute  sooner,  I'd  have  eaten  you  up." 

David  bounded  up  the  bank.  He  had  never 
seen  anything  so  ugly  and  cruel. 

"You  beastly  fish,"  he  said.  "If  I  had  teeth 
like  you,  I  should  go  to  the  dentist.  I'm  not 
frightened  of  you." 

He  was  terrified  really,  but  when  you  are 
frightened,  it  is  always  comforting  to  say  you're 
not. 

"Yes,  you  are,"  said  the  pike,  snapping  his 
jaws,  and  shouldering  his  way  up  through  the 
shallow  water.  "You  daren't  come  down  into  the 
stream  again." 

"I  don't  want  to  come  into  your  muddy 
stream,"  said  David.  "I  should  if  I  wanted  to. 
And  for  that  matter  you  daren't  come  up  here." 
[191] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

*'Yes,  I  dare,"  said  the  pike,  pushing  farther 
up,  till  half  his  horrid  body  was  out  of  the  stream. 
"And  I'm  coming  too." 

David  really  didn't  feel  sure  that  he  wasn't, 
for  since  he  had  got  through  the  blue  door,  he 
had  found  that  animals  and  soldiers  and  flowers 
could  do  all  sorts  of  things  that  you  wouldn't 
expect  they  were  able  to.  So  he  made  himself 
very  dignified,  and  walked  away  from  the  stream, 
trying  very  hard  not  to  hurry  till  he  was  out  of 
sight  of  the  pike. 

"Coward,  coward,"  yelled  the  pike.  "You  wait 
till  I  catch  you." 

David  felt  pretty  safe  now,  for  he  knew  that 
he  must  be  able  to  run  on  land  as  fast  as  a  pike, 
but  he  continued  to  walk  away,  along  by  the 
hedge,  tiU  he  had  put  a  considerable  distance  be- 
tween himself  and  the  stream.  It  was  not  quite 
proper  for  a  bird-boy  and  a  Field-Marshal  to 
run  away  from  a  fish,  but  this  was  such  an  awful 
fish.  .  .  . 

There  were  two  signboards,  he  knew,  in  this 
field,  one  down  by  the  river  about  fishing,  and 
the  other  where  there  was  a  path  across  it,  on 
[192] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

which  was  the  notice,  "Thespassers  will  be  prose- 
cuted with  the  utmost  rigour  of  the  law."  He  did 
not  mind  about  that  notice  since  both  the  field 
and  the  notice  belong  to  his  father,  but  when  he 
came  to  the  second  signboard  and  looked  up  at  it, 
he  felt  suddenly  frozen  with  terror,  and  his  teeth 
chattered  like  Mr.  Funk  the  bather.  For  instead 
of  the  ordinary  notice  this  was  written  up  in  large 
capitals: 

TRESPASSERS  WILL  BE  MARRIED 

WITH   THE   UTMOST   RIGOUR   OF 

THE  LAW 

*'0h,  what  am  I  to  do?"  thought  poor  David, 
"there's  a  girl  coming  into  it  after  all.  I  know 
she'll  spoil  everything." 

He  began  running  back  towards  the  stream 
again,  for  he  felt  he  would  rather  fight  the  pike 
than  be  married,  but  then  he  thought  of  those 
savage  jaws  and  those  dreadful  teeth,  and  his 
legs  simply  would  not  take  him  any  nearer  the 
stream.  They  said  "No!"  just  as  if  they  had 
spoken  aloud.  Between  his  mind  that  said  that 
he  had  better  face  any  danger  sooner  than  be 
[193] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

married,  and  his  legs  that  said  they  would  go 
anywhere  except  towards  the  pike,  he  completely 
lost  his  head,  and  began  running  in  circles  round 
the  field,  saying  to  himself  in  a  most  determined 
voice : 

"I  won't  be  married,  I  won't  be  eaten  by  the 
pike,  I  won't  be  married  to  a  pike,  I  won't  be 
eaten  by  anybody." 

So  round  and  round  he  ran,  though  all  the 
time  there  was  nothing  easier  than  to  walk  out  of 
the  gate  and  get  away  from  the  marriage-meadow 
altogether,  for  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight  nor 
any  sound  except  that  of  the  pike  still  calling 
*'Coward!  Coward!"  But  David  had  quite  lost 
his  head,  and  such  a  sunple  thing  as  that  never 
occurred  to  him  at  all.  And  then  he  saw  that  he 
wasn't  alone  in  the  field,  for  there  was  a  man 
in  a  hard  hat  and  an  ulster  following  him  round 
and  round.  He  was  not  running,  but  was  slid- 
ing, and  all  the  time  he  got  nearer  and  nearer  to 
David.  All  the  time,  too,  David  knew  that  he 
knew  who  it  was,  but  he  had  forgotten,  just  as 
he  had  forgotten  how  to  fly,  or  how  to  count  when 
he  was  talking  to  that  foolish  trout.  Nearer  and 
[194] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

nearer  he  crept,  and  David,  looking  round,  saw 
that  he  was  already  extending  a  stiff  wooden  arm 
to  catch  him.    When  he  saw  that  he  was  on  the 


NOAH  PURSUES  DAVID 


point  of  heing  caught,  he  recover  his  wits  and 
knew  that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  get  away  from 
the  marriage-meadow  at  once.  So,  with  re- 
doubled speed,  he  bolted  towards  the  side  of  the 
[195] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

field  nearest  him,  just  outside  which  there  stood  a 
house  with  the  door  wide  open.  He  didn't  care 
at  all  whether  he  was  prosecuted  for  going  into 
a  house  that  wasn't  his  own ;  all  that  mattered  was 
to  escape  from  this  dreadful  field  where  all  tres- 
passers were  married. 

In  he  rushed  with  the  sliding  figure  close  be- 
hind him,  and  the  door  banged  to  after  them. 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


CHAPTER  VIII 

David  was  completely  out  of  breath,  and  leaned 
against  the  wall  to  recover,  while  his  pursuer  did 
the  same.    He  remembered  who  it  was  now. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Noah!"  he  panted.  "I  couldn't 
remember  who  you  were.  Why  did  you  run  after 
me?" 

Noah  wiped  his  face  with  the  edge  of  his  ulster. 

"To  catch  you,"  said  he.  "What  else  should  I 
run  after  you  for?  The  point  is:  Why  did  you 
run  away?" 

David  didn't  see  why  he  should  tell  Noah  that 
his  legs  had  ben  running  away  from  the  pike,  and 
his  mind  from  being  married.  It  had  got  nothing 
to  do  with  Noah,  and  besides  it  was  a  slightly  un- 
dignified confession. 

"I  like  running,"  he  said.    "I  shall  walk  and 
run,  and  fly  and  swim,  just  as  I  choose." 
[197] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"Hoity-toity!"  said  Noah.  "I  expect  that'll 
be  as  she  chooses." 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'she'?"  asked  David 
quite  cheerfully,  for  he  had  escaped  from  the 
awful  meadow  without  being  caught,  and  all  risk 
of  being  married  was  over. 

"I  can't  tell  you  yet,"  said  Noah,  "but  you'll 
soon  know.  I'm  not  certain  who  we  have  on  our 
books  this  morning.  Hark !  There  are  the  church 
bells  beginning.    That's  for  you." 

This  all  sounded  rather  mysterious,  but  he 
couldn't  ask  Noah  any  more  questions  this  mo- 
ment, for  he  had  gone  inside  a  big  cupboard  in 
the  wall,  where  he  appeared  to  be  dressing-up. 
While  he  was  doing  this,  David  had  a  look  round 
the  room.  There  was  a  row  of  chairs  against  the 
wall  and  a  big  open  fireplace,  and  in  the  centre 
a  table  on  which  were  all  sorts  of  writing  materi- 
als, a  large  book  on  which  was  printed  "Female 
Register,"  and  a  bottle  of  water  and  a  glass.  At 
each  corner  of  the  room  was  a  pillar  that  looked 
as  if  it  didn't  support  the  roof  exactly,  but  went 
through  it.  Somehow  this  made  David  feel  a 
little  uncomfortable,  for  it  reminded  him  of  the 
[198J 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

giraffe  at  the  animals'  ball.  Also  he  saw  that  on 
the  top  of  the  paper  in  the  writing-case  were 
printed  the  words  "Registry  Office."  He  did  not 
know  what  it  meant,  but  it  and  the  pillars  in  the 
corners  of  the  room  made  him  feel  uneasy,  as 
he  felt  before  a  thunderstorm. 

There  was  a  sound  of  whispering  in  the  cup- 
board, and  he  heard  Noah's  voice  say: 

"I  go  in  first :  wait  till  I  call  you.  One  of  you 
announce  me." 

There  was  a  short  pause,  and  David  distinctly 
heard  the  noise  of  somebody  eating.  Then  a 
rather  hoarse  voice  said : 

"I'll  have  finished  in  a  moment.  I  call  that  a 
good  bit  of  meat." 

David  guessed  that  this  must  be  Miss  Bones, 
though  he  could  not  imagine  what  she  was  doing 
here.  It  sounded  like  Miss  Bones's  voice,  and  it 
also  sounded  like  the  sort  of  thing  that  Miss 
Bones  said.  Then  the  same  voice  said,  just  as  if 
its  mouth  was  full: 

"The  Registrar,"  and  a  rude  swallowing  sound 
followed. 

Noah  came  out  of  the  cupboard.  He  had  got  a 
[199] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

wig  on,  and  some  false  whiskers  and  a  lawyer's 
gown.  He  seemed  to  have  taken  off  his  stand,  for 
instead  of  sliding  he  stalked  along  with  a  very 
important  air. 

*'0h,  is  it  charades?"  said  David.  "Have  I  got 
to  guess?    I  bet  you  I  guess.  It's " 

"Silence!"  said  Noah  very  severely. 

He  came  and  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  began 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  book  called  "Fe- 
male Register."  Then  he  took  a  sip  of  water  and 
spoke : 

"David  Blaize,  I  believe,"  he  said,  "charged 
with  trespass  in  the  marriage-meadow.  Speak 
up." 

"I  haven't  spoken  at  all  yet,"  said  David. 

"Then  you've  got  nothing  to  say  for  yourseir. 
I  suppose?"  said  Noah. 

A  brilliant  idea  struck  David. 

"I'm  not  in  the  marriage-meadow  now,"  he 
said.  "How  do  you  intend  to  prove  I  was  there 
at  all?  It  was  only  you  who  say  you  saw  me, 
and  you  are  only  a  person  out  of  my  own  ark." 

Noah  got  up,  and  opened  the  door  into  the 
meadow.  David  could  hear  the  pike  still  calling 
[200] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"Coward!"  He  was  coughing  violently,  having 
been  so  long  in  the  air. 

"Pike!"  shouted  Noah.     "Come  in,  pike!" 

David's  legs  began  to  want  to  run  somewhere. 

"No!  shut  the  door,"  he  said.  "I  was  in  the 
marriage-meadow,  but  I  didn't  know." 

"Go  away,  pike,"  said  Noah,  and  shut  the  door. 
"Very  well,  then,  that's  proved,"  he  said.  "The 
next  thing  to  do  is  to  see  who's  on  the  books." 

He  turned  over  the  leaves. 

"Very  small  selection  to-day,"  he  said  to 
David,  "but  some  very  pleasant  clients  among 
them.    The  names  are  as  follows: 

"Number  one,  giraffe." 

"Here,"  said  a  silly  whisper  from  the  top 
storey. 

"You've  got  to  come  in,"  said  Noah. 

The  pillars  at  the  corners  of  the  room  stirred 
uneasily,  and  David  saw  what  they  really  were. 
Then  there  came  a  sound  from  upstairs  as  if 
banisters  were  breaking,  and  the  mild  surprised- 
looking  face  came  down  the  chimney,  upside- 
down,  and  covered  with  soot. 

"That's  all  I  can  do  at  present  unless  I  begin 
[201] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

to  walk,"  she  whispered.  "Why,  it's  that  boy 
again.    I  am  surprised.    May  I  jump?" 

"No,  certainly  not,"  said  Noah.  "Stop  quite 
still,  or  you  shan't  be  married." 

The  giraffe  winked  at  David,  and  extended 
her  neck  a  little,  till  her  mouth  was  close  to  his 
ear. 

"Can  you  grow  again?"  she  asked.  "If  you 
can't,  it's  all  rather  ridiculous.  You  would  al- 
ways be  in  the  cellar,  and  I  in  the  attic.  We 
should  never  meet,  which  would  be  so  sad  for 

you." 

"Silence,"  said  Noah.  "Nimiber  two,  Miss 
Bones,  the  butcher's  daughter." 

"Here,"  said  Miss  Bones,  coming  out  of  the 
cupboard. 

She  had  got  something  that  looked  like  an  ox- 
tail, and  was  munching  it.  She  sat  down  on  one 
of  the  chairs  by  the  wall,  and  pointed  with  the 
end  of  the  ox-tail  at  David. 

"Is  that  it?"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  disgust. 
"Why,  he's  a  mere  upstart.  None  of  us  know 
him." 

David  felt  furious  at  this. 
[202] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

"If  you  don't  take  care,  I  shall  collect  you," 
he  said. 

"Silence,"  said  Noah.  "Number  three.  Miss 
Muffet." 

There  was  a  rustling  in  the  cupboard,  and  out 
came  Miss  Muffet. 

"Well,  I  never!"  she  said.  "If  it  isn't  the 
cheeky  little  rascal  who  tried  to  keep  my  kind 
good  spider  from  me  last  night,  thinking  he  was 
a  pike.  But  as  I'm  on  the  books,  I  suppose 
there's  no  help  for  it." 

"That's  all,"  said  Noah,  closing  the  book  with 
such  a  bang  that  Miss  Bones  dropped  her  ox-tail. 
"Now,  David  Blaize,  it's  for  you  to  choose." 

"But  I  don't  choose  any  of  them,"  said  David» 
in  a  sort  of  agony.  "I'm  sure  they're  all  delight- 
ful, but  I  don't  want  to  be  married.  I  didn't 
come  here  for  that;  nobody  understands.  My 
house  wouldn't  hold  a  giraffe  to  begin  with " 

"Build  another  storey,"  whispered  the  giraffe 
in  his  ear,  "and  you  can  probably  grow.  You 
did  before.    I  don't  mind  marrying  you." 

"But  I  mind  marrying  you  very  much,"  said 
[203] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

David.  "You  can't  do  anything  but  whisper  and 
waltz." 

"No,  but  I  can  learn,"  whispered  the  giraffe. 
"I  was  always  considered  the  cleverest  of  the 
family." 

"Then  they  must  have  been  a  very  stupid 
family,"  said  David. 

"Hush!"  said  Noah  severely. 

"I  shan't  hush,"  said  David. 

The  giraffe  began  to  cry. 

"I  thought  you  had  such  a  kind  face,"  she 
whispered,  "but  you  don't  seem  to  care  for  me. 
If  you  only  built  a  storey  or  two  on  to  your 
house,  and  took  out  the  staircase,  and  grew  a 
great  deal,  we  might  be  quite  happy.  You  must 
be  patient  and  grow." 

"Oh,  shut  up,"  said  Miss  Bones,  seizing  the 
water-bottle  on  the  table.  She  drank  out  of  the 
mouth  of  it  in  a  very  rude  manner,  and  spilt  a 
quantity  of  it.  "He  doesn't  want  you,  and  you 
don't  want  him,  and  you're  only  shamming.  But 
what's  the  matter  with  me?" 

David  turned  on  her. 

"The  matter  with  you  is,"  he  said,  "that  you're 
[204] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


DAVID  IN  THE  REGISTRY  OFFICE 


always  eating  raw  meat.    I'd  sooner  be  eaten  by 
the  pike  than  see  you  eat  all  day  and  night." 

Miss  Bones  put  the  ox-tail  into  her  mouth 
again. 

[205] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

"So  that's  that,"  she  mumbled.  "There's  no 
accounting  for  tastes." 

Miss  Muffet  cleared  her  throat  and  coughed, 
holding  her  hand  up  to  her  mouth  in  the  most 
genteel  way. 

"That  leaves  me,"  she  said.  "I  don't  want  to 
be  married,  as  I  told  you  before.  But  if  you'll 
beg  my  dear  spider's  pardon,  and  he  says  there's 
room  for  you  on  the  tufFet,  I'll  forgive  you,  and 
you  may  sleep  in  the  bathing-machine.  There! 
And  you  can  ride  the  stuffed  horse  whenever  you 
like." 

The  registrar  had  been  drawing  pictures  of 
David  on  the  blotting-paper. 

"When  I  have  counted  ten,"  he  said.  "You've 
got  to  choose.  If  you  don't,  I  shall  choose  for 
you.  What's  that?"  he  added,  looking  up  at  the 
window. 

A  large  mild  face  was  pressed  against  the 
glass,  and  there  was  the  cow  outside,  moving  her 
mouth  round  and  round,  and  breathing  so  heavily 
against  the  window  that  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  see  out.  Then  the  glass  gave  way  under  the 
[206] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

pressure  of  her  nose,  and  she  put  her  head  into 
the  room. 

"Moo!  Put  my  name  down,"  she  said.  "I'm 
incognito,  so  call  me  a  porter." 

"You're  too  late  for  this  morning,"  said  Noah. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  said  the  cow. 

"You  are,"  said  Noah  angrily.  "Don't  intet- 
rupt.     One — two — three — four " 

The  cow  breathed  heavily  into  the  room. 

"Why,  it's  the  boy  who  went  Anywhere,"  she 
said,  seeing  David.  "I  never  thought  the  express 
called  here,  dearie." 

David  ran  across  to  that  kind,  mild  creature. 

"Oh,  do  knock  the  whole  place  down,"  he  said. 
"They  want  to  marry  me,  and  it's  all  so  beastly. 
Butt  at  it,  as  you  did  at  my  luggage." 

"Five — six,"  said  Noah. 

"All  right,  dearie,"  said  the  cow,  shaking  bits 
of  broken  glass  from  her  ears.  "You  just  get  be- 
hind the  door,  and  I'll  see  to  them  all.  But  you 
must  promise  not  to  go  milking  me  again." 

"Never,  never,"  shrieked  David.  "But  be 
quick;  he's  counted  six  already." 

"Seven — eight,"  said  Noah. 
[207] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

The  cow  backed  into  the  village  street,  and 
David  saw  her  tail  fly  up  with  a  spring.  She  put 
her  head  down,  and  came  galloping  towards  the 
house,  and  he  ran  behind  the  door. 

"Nine — ten!"  said  Noah.  "Choose,  or  be 
chosen  for." 

At  that  moment  the  cow's  head  crashed  into 
the  wall  below  the  window.  Miss  MufFet  gave 
one  faint  scream,  and  said,  "Spider,  dear!"  Miss 
Bones  whirled  her  ox-tail  round  her  head  like  a 
sling,  and,  intending  to  hit  the  cow,  hit  Noah  the 
most  awful  slap  on  his  false  whiskers,  which  fell 
off.  The  giraife's  head  went  up  the  chimney 
with  a  pop  and  a  shower  of  soot  descended  into 
the  room. 

"Now,  run,  dearie,"  said  the  cow  to  David. 
"Run  for  your  life.  The  whole  lot  of  them  will 
be  after  you." 

David  had  no  thought  but  to  get  back  to  the 
blue  door,  and  into  his  bedroom  again,  and  as  the 
shortest  way  was  across  the  marriage-meadow, 
and  over  the  bridge,  and  up  the  garden  path, 
and  in  at  the  garden  door,  and  up  the  stairs,  and 
past  the  game-cupboard,  he  no  longer  cared  what 
[208] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

enemies  he  might  meet  on  his  way.  The  pike 
might  have  come  up  into  the  meadow,  and  the 
soldiers  might  be  on  the  lawn,  but  nothing  mat- 
tered except  to  get  back  to  the  blue  door  by  the 
shortest  possible  route. 

All  the  adventure  of  being  a  Field-Marshal 
was  nothing  to  this. 

So  out  he  ran,  and  there,  on  the  threshold,  was 
the  pike,  which  had  flopped  its  way  all  across  the 
meadow  when  Noah  called  it,  and  it  gave  a  fear- 
ful snap  at  David,  and  pulled  off  one  of  his 
shoes.  The  other  stuck  in  a  piece  of  marshy  land 
near  the  bridge,  but  he  didn't  stop  for  that,  and 
just  ran  and  ran. 

Behind  him  he  heard  a  noise  growing  louder 
every  minute:  there  were  lions  roaring  and  ele- 
phants trumpeting,  and  marbles  rolling,  and 
sounds  of  gimlets  and.  hammers  that  showed  the 
happy  families  were  on  his  track,  and  whistles 
from  engines,  and  bells  ringing  as  if  the  whole 
village  had  caught  fire,  or  was  just  going  to  have 
dinner;  and  when  he  came  to  the  bridge,  he  heard 
bugles  and  drums  in  the  camp,  and  the  fat  voice 
of  the  Brigadier-General  giving  orders.  The 
[209] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

stupid  trout  had  put  its  head  through  the  ice,  and 
was  shouting.  "Here  he  comes,"  and  a  machine- 
gun  began  peppering  away,  and  a  huge  cannon- 
ball  flew  by  him.  Mixed  up  in  this  he  heard  the 
canter  of  the  spider,  and  the  parrot  sneezing,  and 
the  hoarse  voice  of  Miss  Bones  shrieking  "My 
papa  will  make  cutlets  of  him,  and  I'll  eat  him." 

Then  from  the  elms  there  came  a  sound  of 
cawing,  and  from  the  bushes  a  sound  of  twitter- 
ing, and  chirping  from  the  long  garden  wall.  He 
had  never  heard  so  much  bird-noise,  even  at  the 
meeting  of  the  flying-committee. 

"It's  the  birds,"  thought  David.  "If  they're 
against  me,  I'm  done!" 

For  one  moment  he  stood  quite  still,  feeling 
that  it  was  no  use  to  go  on  if  the  birds,  too, 
were  his  enemies.  But  then  he  heard  a  whistle  of 
wings  close  above  him,  and  a  voice  said: 

"Fly  in  their  faces,  and  confuse  them.  There's 
a  trout  down  there,  kingfisher,  giving  the  alarm. 
Go  and  peck  him." 

David  wasted  no  more  time,  except  to  call  out, 
"Thanks  awfully,  birds,"  and  ran  on  up  the  gar- 
den-path. He  could  see  jays  settling  on  the 
[210] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 


/y^/ 


DAVID   RUNS    FOR   HOME 


[311] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

tents,  and  woodpeckers  tapping  to  see  if  they  had 
come  to  the  right  place,  and  on  he  ran  till  he  came 
to  the  garden  door.  It  was  open,  and  he  rushed 
up  the  stairs,  and  felt  his  way  past  the  game-cup- 
board, for  it  was  quite  dark  here,  and  turned  the 
corner  into  the  nursery  passage  where  the  flame- 
cats  had  danced. 

But  now  there  were  no  flame-cats  here,  unless 
one  tiny  glimmer  of  light  on  the  wall  was  the 
remains  of  one,  and  he  had  to  grope  his  way — 
and,  oh,  how  long  it  seemed — to  the  end  of  the 
passage,  where  he  remembered  that  the  blue  door 
was.  He  had  left  the  key  hanging  up  on  a  nail 
beside  it,  but  now  he  could  not  remember  which 
side  it  was,  and  as  he  groped  for  it,  he  knocked 
down  the  bottle  which  had  something  to  do  with 
the  electric  light.  As  it  gurgled  away  on  the 
floor,  he  remembered  that  he  had  shaken  it,  to 
shock  the  flame-cats  and  made  them  stop  dancing, 
and  now  he  felt  for  it  at  his  feet,  meaning  to 
shake  it,  and  get  the  electric  light  to  flare  out 
again,  so  that  he  might  find  the  key  of  the  blue 
door.  But  the  stopper  had  come  out,  and  it  was 
[2127 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

empty,  and  when  he  shook  it  nothing  whatever 
happened. 

Meantime  the  pursuit  had  got  much  nearer, 
and  he  could  hear  that  a  lion  or  two,  and  some 
soldiers  had  come  to  the  garden  door. 

"He  went  in  here,"  roared  a  lion.  "I  can  smell 
him." 

Then  the  Brigadier-General  spoke. 

"Bring  up  the  machine-guns,"  he  said,  "and 
rake  the  passage  from  end  to  end.  Then  ad- 
vance in  open  order." 

David  heard  the  bullets  rattling  against  the 
wall  of  the  passage  at  the  corner,  and  knew  that 
when  they  had  turned  that,  he  would  be  exposed 
to  their  full  fire  again.  There  was  no  cover  of 
any  sort  or  kind;  when  once  they  had  advanced 
to  the  corner,  he  had  nowhere  left  to  go,  unless 
he  could  find  the  key  of  the  door. 

Then  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  Brigadier-Gen- 
eral when  the  firing  stopped. 

"Up  the  stairs  and  right  turn,"  he  said.  "Then 
open  fire  again.  I'm  behind  you,  so  don't  be 
afraid." 

David  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head,  and 
[213] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

squeezed  it  to  see  if  there  was  a  single  idea  left 
in  it.    There  was  just  one. 

"Oh,  flame-cats,"  he  said.  "I  did  stop  shock- 
ing you  when  you  asked  me.  Do  show  a  light 
just  for  a  minute." 

Then  the  one  little  glimmer  on  the  wall  began 
to  grow  brighter,  and  he  saw  it  was  the  eye  of  a 
flame-cat.  Then  another  eye  lit  up,  as  if  a  gas- 
lighter  in  the  street  had  turned  it  on,  and  after 
that  the  apricot-and-poppy  coloured  tabby  ap- 
peared. "Set  to  partners,"  it  said  and  disap- 
peared again,  like  water  running  out  of  the  hole 
at  the  bottom  of  a  basin.  But  in  that  moment's 
light,  David  had  found  the  key  and  fitted  it  into 
the  lock  of  the  blue  door. 

"There's  just  time  to  take  the  key  with  me," 
he  said,  and  pulled  the  door  open.  Before  he  had 
shut  it  after  him,  and  locked  it  again,  he  heard 
a  voice  say  "Fire,"  and  there  was  a  tremendous 
explosion. 

He  had  fallen  forward  on  his  bed,  and  the 
pillow  went  with  a  soft  thump  on  to  the  floor. 
But  tight  clenched  in  his  hand  was  the  golden 

[214] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

key,  and  the  door  was  shut  and  locked  behind 
him. 

David  didn't  remember  having  taken  off  his 
sailor  clothes  and  put  on  his  pyjamas,  but  here  he 


DAVID  REACHES  HOME 


was  in  them  now,  and  his  sailor  clothes  were  in 
a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  the  light  of  the  dawn 
was  coming  in  through  his  windows.  He  felt  tre- 
mendously sleepy,  but  before  he  turned  round  to 
get  under  his  bed-clothes,  he  opened  his  hand  to 
[215] 


DAVID  BLAIZE  AND 

look  at  the  golden  key.  But  there  was  no  key 
there :  it  was  only  the  pin-partridge. 

For  the  moment  he  was  horribly  disappointed, 
but  almost  instantly  he  cheered  up  again. 

"It  doesn't  matter  a  bit!"  he  said.  "I  know 
how  to  get  through  the  door  now.  Oh,  what  an 
exciting  night.     I  wonder " 

But  before  he  knew  what  he  wondered  he  fell 
fast  asleep. 

When  he  went  down  to  breakfast  next  morn- 
ing, he  found  his  father  and  mother  already  there. 
One  was  munching  toast,  and  the  other  was  read- 
ing the  paper,  in  their  dull  way. 

"Good  morning,  David,"  said  his  mother. 
"You're  rather  late,  darling." 

His  father  stopped  munching  toast  for  a 
second. 

"Did  the  birds  awake  you,  too,  David?"  he 
said.  "I  never  heard  such  a  noise  as  there  was 
about  dawn." 

"I  heard  them,"  said  David.  "I  went  to  sleep 
again  afterwards." 

Just  think!  That  was  all  that  the  grown-up 
[216] 


THE  BLUE  DOOR 

people  knew  about  those  lovely  adventures. 
David  had  never  felt  so  sorry  for  them.  Poor 
things. 

And  then  his  mother  began  reading  the  paper 
again,  and  his  father  asked  her  if  anything  had 
happened. 

"If  anything  has  happened  I"  thought  David, 
a  little  bit  aloud. 

"What  did  you  say,  darling?"  asked  his  mother. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  David.  "I  was  only 
thinking." 


THE    END 


[217] 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
TO-— ►      202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling     642-3405. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


DEC  24 


PECZozcoa 


AUTn  nrsfi  0£C  n  "g  L 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


LD21-100to-7,'40  (6936s) 


93,539'? 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


